


who's gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

by draconequus, theGirlNightwing



Series: the devils train [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Based on a song, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Suicide, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, alexander hamilton being stupid, applies to one of our authors, but on a train, cool descriptions tho, demon thomas jefferson, fast paced, help us pls, it's pretty cool, it's pretty non con so if that isn't your thing, its like a high fantasy novel, jamilton is the center of the fic but not the endgame, objectification of humans, sin - Freeform, they're all v possessive, we are poor a.hams, we did 27k in a week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconequus/pseuds/draconequus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theGirlNightwing/pseuds/theGirlNightwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I could show you things that paint all your dreams haunted</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I could make you scream if I wanted</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Or I can be the bee in your bonnet, your best-friend forever</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Two peas in a pod flocking like birds of a feather</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And you never have a need to beg work or steal</i>
  <br/>
  <i>If all this sounds worth it then lets make a deal</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>----------------- </p><p>Alex Hamilton has been warned all his life about going down to the train tracks in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One, Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> based on this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYo8CVsger8
> 
> lyrics at beginning and end are by draconequus
> 
> we wrote the first part in 7 days h e l p.... we've dedicated our lives to this for a week
> 
> one of us writes in british english and the other writes in american english haha we might switch between
> 
> we're still writing
> 
> we'll update weekly, we've written 5 chapters ahead 
> 
> EDIT: hi!! so call us dori (thegirlnightwing) and lance (draconequus) if ur gonna direct specific comments at us, and we'll probably use the names in the notes :)
> 
> pls enjoy!

_Oh boy don’t trust the air you breathe,_

_Oh boy don’t trust the ground under your feet._

_When the train tracks call to you at night,_

_Don’t follow them stay with the light._

_Cos you don’t know where you get off,_

_Where’s the cut off?_

Alex’s mother has always been superstitious as hell. She whispers stories to him about urban legends, sings lullabies with an undertone of _creep._ Tells him to avoid abandoned gas stations with flickering lights, freeway stops with nothing around, train tracks that rattle in the middle of the night.

Alex isn’t very superstitious himself, but he grins and bears it. _For her_ , he thinks, _for his quickly fading mother._

He doesn’t have much time left with her. He’ll take what he can get.

Little does he know that time just ran out.

He’s sleeping, soundly. His mother’s whispering the remains of her song. Her breath hitches as she strokes a hand through his hair, “Don’t go down to the train tracks, boy. No one will find you, ever again.”

He wakes the next morning, in her arms. They’re limp around him, and there’s a notable lack of a steady rise and fall. His heart stops. “No,” He says. Checks her pulse in her wrist, nothing. Checks her pulse in her neck, nothing. Holds his hand over her mouth, nothing. Puts his ear to her chest.

Nothing.

He doesn’t remember much after that.

* * *

Alex stares out the window of the plane, eyes dead. Feeling empty.

The clouds beneath him are heavy and fat with rain, and he grimaces at the thought of landing.

“Thirty minutes until we descend into JFK. Local time is 8:32pm. We thank you for choosing United Airlines, and ask that you please put up your tray tables and seat backs for landing. For those of you visiting, welcome to New York. For those of you returning, welcome home.”

They land exactly forty minutes later. Alex resists the urge to make a comment, telling himself to play nice, at least until he gets to his cousin’s house.

Pulling out his phone with cold numb fingers, he stabs at the screen.

 _I’ve landed_ , he sends. The little bubble pops up, telling him that his cousin is typing.

_r u out of customs yet?_

Walking swiftly down the corridor, he glances up at the signs pointing in every direction. Eyes flicking over them, he makes a sharp turn to his right. It’s very important to make sure you aren’t perceived as a terrorist after all.

Fingers tapping out a quick rhythm, he drops his bag into the tray. The lady in front of him takes a freakishly long time, balancing a child in one arm while dropping keys and coins into the tray with the other. Her equally tired husband holds another screaming child, and Alex rolls his eyes as he takes bits and pieces out of his pockets.

Pushing the items along to the x-ray, he jolts when one of the security guards calls to him.

“Sir, if we could just get you to step over here?”

His heart sinks as he sees where they’re pointing. The super special screening machine. Of course. Nothing better for a young immigrant who doesn’t look white.

Stepping obediently into the separate line he toes off his shoes.

“Anything in your pockets? Everything counts, coins, keys, phones…”

Alex sighs. He’s tired, and irritated from being pulled out of the line anyway.

“Nope, nothing on me.”

A heavy hand pats his shoulder and he steps into the machine, placing his feet in the marked spaces.

“Hands above your head, and hold it for three seconds.”

After it flashes, Alex drops the pose, stepping out of the tube and slipping his shoes back on.

“All clear, you’re good to go.” As the uniformed officer hands him his things, he lets his lips twitch up in some semblance of a smile before shoving his headphones back on.

Walking to the luggage carousels, the wall of silence that the headphones gives him is welcomed. Lifting his small suitcase off of the conveyer belt, he pulls up the handle. It rolls squeakily behind him, one of the wheels making it jiggle insecurely.

The rest of it passes in a blur of stern faces and monotonous voices. Soon enough, he’s standing under precarious shelter, as rain pelts down around him. Calling up a cab had been the easy part of the process. His cousin obviously couldn’t be bothered to come get him himself.

Alex would soon find out that his cousin couldn’t be bothered about anything else either. Climbing up the rickety stairs to their shared apartment while lugging the suitcase behind him had been awful, but as he gives a few tentative knocks at the door, it swings open, Richard leaning on it heavily.

He’s clutching a beer bottle in one hand, alcohol wafting from his breath as he squints at Alex.

“You’re Alex?” He says.

Alex nods, slightly breathless from carrying all his stuff up the stairs.

Richard eyes him, considering, before stepping back and gesturing for Alex to follow.

Alex resists the urge to plug his nose at the stench, and takes in the sight of crumpled wrappers and discarded bottles. There are flies circling something sitting in the corner on a small table that might have been meat, some time ago. The couch is stained, and the two chairs next to it aren’t in any better shape. There’s a bowl of popcorn sitting on the table, its contents laying scattered around it. The TV - all of its glorious 12 inches - sits, pristine, in the middle of the absolute wreck that is the rest of the house.

“Your room is down the hall,” Richard tells him. “To the left.” And then he sits down heavily - directly on a couch stain.

Alex winces, and almost tells him, but decides against it. It isn’t as if there’s anywhere else on the couch that wasn’t stained. “Okay, thanks.”

He turns back halfway down the hall to say something else, blurt a thank you for his cousin taking him in, but the TV sputters to life and there’s cheering. A football game, evidently. He figures he shouldn’t interrupt, so he continues down the hall.

His room is… Well. Small would be a bit of an understatement. It looks like it was previously a laundry room. There are pipes sticking out of the walls, and the room itself is bare and empty, except for a banged up futon bed. The futon, he notes, is still in the shape of a chair, and there are no blankets anywhere to be seen.

The walls are so thin he can hear every word the TV emits - the 49ers are winning against the Giants 5 to 2.

He sets down the suitcase, pokes his head back out to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake - yup, this room is the only one on the left. Great. Might as well try to make it livable.

There’s a closet-type thing, with shelves and a space to hang stuff. Alex suspects it used to function as a supply closet.

There’s no dresser, or wardrobe.

He doesn’t have many clothes, anyway. Pushes away the brief flare of hope he’d had of his cousin buying him new ones.

He’s almost unpacked when a heavy rap on the door startles him.

“Blanket’s under the bed. I’m going to sleep, be quiet.”

His footsteps retreat, half stumbling down the corridor.

Alex reaches under the futon and drags out a thin felt blanket. “Oh,” He says, wrinkling his nose at the cobwebs, dirt, and dust covering it. “That’s just gross.” He elects to slide it back under and not think about it again.

* * *

Cleaning up after Richard essentially becomes Alex’s job. Well. Hopefully soon to be second job because as soon as he moves in, he heads down the street to see if any places are hiring.

He’s applied to some promising places, and the lady at Starbucks even said she thought he’d do good there. He’s due to get the email soon, but in the meantime he’s started to look through the nearest public library. Applying for a card was easy, easier than everything he’s had to do to get to America, and everything he’s done since arriving.

“Those are some very advanced books, young man,” The librarian says, observing him struggle with self-checkout.

He smiles up at her through clenched teeth. “I’m eighteen, ma’am.” His card finally goes through, and he sighs in relief.

“Oh!” She says. “I thought you were more high school age, with your…”

“Height,” He supplies after an awkward silence, taking pity on her reluctance. “Yeah, I get that a lot, it’s fine.” It’s not fine. He hates his height.

She waves him a cheerful goodbye as he leaves.

Of course, Alex, having the worst luck, opens the door to the apartment with the key Richard gave him, and immediately slips. And drops all his books.

He scrambles back to his feet, and freezes when he sees the color of the liquid.

He expected alcohol again. Or vomit, at least. But this - it’s too thick to be wine. To red to be puke.

He lifts his gaze slowly, and feels bile rise swiftly in his throat when he sees Richard.

It explains the blood, at least.

He’s slumped against the wall, eyes glassy and vacant, staring straight ahead. Pistol held loosely in his limp hand.

The blood isn’t seeping from the head wound anymore, but it’s obvious that’s where it came from. There’s a pattern on the wall that looks kind of like a wing if he squints. Chunks decorate it to make a rather gruesome wall decal.

Alex swallows, his throat making a dry clicking sound. “Well then,” He says to his cousin’s corpse. “I’d like to say I saw this coming, but.” He pauses. “You were kind of an asshole, I’ll admit, but you were still family.”

He turns away to retch as he registers the thick smell of blood permeating the whole room. Pressing a fist to his mouth, he feels the urge to just _leave the apartment, and go anywhere else_. But he knows he can’t just run from this.

The neighbors probably didn’t call the cops when they heard the gunshot. Not in this neighborhood.

Alex takes a shower before he dials 911. He doesn’t want the blood on him when he leaves.

He tells the operator he heard a gunshot, came to investigate. Found Richard Hamilton, dead, on the floor.

There’ll be no evidence of another person in the flat. He’s cleaned up his vomit, left no trace. Moved all his clothes to Richard’s room. Took the only things he really needs - a small locket with a latch and a picture of his mother inside, some cash he’s collected, and several wads of cash Richard’s hidden around. The legal side of things was never really cleared up, so everything in their files will state that Richard Hamilton lives alone.

 _So what if I get deported_ , Alex thinks darkly, stepping over the prone form of his cousin and closing the door with a quiet click. _I didn’t want to be here anyway._

It doesn’t take him long to find a sketchy looking dude selling pot on a street corner. He gets charged $50 for a small baggie, but it’s enough to roll a joint.

He finds an empty alley. His fingers are shaking as he lights the end of it with a cigar lighter he filched from his cousin, raising it swiftly to his lips and inhaling. Coughing a little when it first hits his lungs, he almost bursts out laughing hysterically. He must look like a kid trying to smoke for the first time.

He reaches the high on his third drag. It’s not all that great, just enough to make him numb. He’s basking in the weightless feeling when he hears it.

_oh boy don’t trust the air you breathe_

_oh boy don’t trust the ground under your feet._

_when the train tracks call to you at night_

He whips his head around, staring through spaces between buildings. The song wafts through the air, taunting at the edge of his hearing, almost beckoning him to follow. So he does.

He’s still high, but he takes another drag for good measure, before regretfully snubbing the joint, tossing it into a nearby trash-can.

He follows the faint voice, something that sounds curiously like his mother, and as he heads more north it becomes clearer.

_don’t follow them stay with the light_

_cos you don’t know where you get off_

_where’s the cut off_

“Huh,” he says, stopping at a railroad. He squints at the tracks. He knows the trains aren’t running but… they appear to be shaking. “I feel like I should probably leave…”

“Do you, now?”

It takes Alex a moment to realize that the smooth voice wasn’t inside his head, and turns sharply to the side. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man snorts, lip curling in a condescending smirk. “You’re a polite one, aren’t you.”

“Look, dude. I didn’t ask for you to talk to me.”

“Yet here we are.” The man extends a hand. “Thomas Jefferson. Call me Thomas. And you?”

Alex considers ignoring him altogether before deciding, fuck it. “Alexander Hamilton.” He takes the man’s - Thomas’ - hand. “Alex is fine, if you really have to talk to me.”

“You seem interesting,” Thomas admits, grin stretching across his face. It’s a shark’s grin - he looks more like he wants to eat Alex, not shake his hand.

“Really,” Alex says dryly. “Interesting. Me. Couldn’t be.”

Looking more intently at Thomas, he notes the top hat somehow remaining in place on his head, for all the full hair underneath it. His eyes are sharp and calculating, matched with a razorblade grin. Leaning nonchalantly on his cane, he cuts a dark silhouette in the flickering fluorescent lights.

Stepping forward, he swings his cane under one arm in a smooth motion, while the other comes up to fiddle with his bowtie.

Even from this distance, Alex can smell his cologne - cold, with a bite to it, like the first breath on a frosty morning.

“Like what you see?” Thomas says, breaking the silence with a smug smirk.

Alex startles out of his daze. “No,” He snaps.

Thomas laughs when Alex doesn’t offer anything else. “So, what’s a nice young man like you doing out so late at night?”

The way he says it gives Alex a weird vibe. There’s something in the back of his mind, a voice screaming at him to _run, now_ . He shivers as the cold starts to seep through his hoodie. _But he seems kind of nice, doesn’t he?_ “Fuck off.”

“Don’t you know the trains don’t run this late?”

“Seriously, leave.”

“You have legs,” Thomas points out in an annoyingly calm voice. “And I was here first. Besides,” another dangerous shark grin. The voice screaming at him to run is more persistent now, he has to _leave_ but his legs - which, as Thomas pointed out, he _does have_ \- aren’t cooperating with him. “What’s got you all riled up, little man?”

Alex bristles, clenching his fists at his sides. “Don’t call me little.”

Thomas snickers. “You are little, though.”

“Can you just go?” He’s starting to lose all hope that the man is ever going to stop bothering him.

“I’m just as able to leave as you are. Why don’t you tell me what brought you down here?” Thomas adopts a somewhat curious expression, though he still doesn’t seem to be looking directly at him.

“Why are you so curious?”

Thomas shrugs. “You’re the only person to come down to the tracks in almost a year. Forgive me a little curiosity.”

Alex stares at him for a moment before shrugging. _Ah, what the hell_ . _It wasn’t like there was any harm in telling._ “Mom’s dead. They sent me to America last week, and now everything around is unfamiliar. Cousin committed suicide. I found him. Brains blown out onto the walls.”

Thomas makes a sympathetic noise, but doesn’t seem surprised. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Feels like one too,” Alex agrees, wariness dropping away slowly. “What’re _you_ doing wandering these train tracks at night?”

“Thinking,” Thomas says. “You sound like you’ve had a hard life. Probably have to work hard for every cent, huh?”

“Sure,” Alex says, a suspicious tone still in his voice. “Why do you ask?”

“What if I told you I could make it so you’d never have to work another day of your life?” Thomas says. “You’d get all you’d ever wanted.”

“What if I wanted my mother back?” Alex asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Could you arrange _that_?”

“Perhaps,” Thomas says simply. “But would you want to pull her from the peaceful afterlife she’s entered, back into this hellish world?”

Alex thinks about it, before shaking his head. “No. I guess not.”

“All you’d ever want, though. At one small price.” He holds his fingers a small distance apart and Alex almost laughs at how childish it is.

“And what’s that?”

“Your soul.”

Alex snickers, but stutters to a stop when he sees Thomas raising an eyebrow, completely serious. “You’re not joking.”

“No,” Thomas agrees, stepping closer still.

“Well alright, dude. You want my soul for anything I can imagine? Fine. Where do I sign?” Alex feels as if he’s on a verge of a nervous breakdown. He might start laughing hysterically, or crying at any moment. _Honestly, is this guy for real?_

“You’re funny,” Thomas says, as if he isn’t the one asking for payment in the form of a soul. “This is the contract.” He produces a sheet of paper the length of Alex’s arm-span. “You seal the deal with a kiss.” He smirks again.

Alex gapes for a moment, before shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Alright. Gimme.”

He gives up halfway through reading it - though the first half seemed right. Legal jargon and all. At least - as an aspiring lawyer, he hopes he understood it right.

“Ready?” Thomas asks, all hooded eyes and sly smiles.

Alex sighs, leans forward, and lands the kiss like he would tap someone’s shoulder. He tries to pull back immediately, but then Thomas’ hand is at his back, keeping him there for a moment, mouths pressed together,  before he really starts to fight, and manages to push away. “Really?” Alex asks dryly, scrubbing at his mouth with his sleeve.

Thomas grins, full and sated, like a cat that caught the canary. “You read the clause at the end, right?”

Alex freezes. No, he didn’t. “Probably, yeah. Which one?”

“The one about the train.” Thomas trails lazy fingers across the smooth black wood of his cane, not meeting Alex’s eyes, a wicked smile now audible in his voice.

“What train?”

“The train you just agreed to walk the entire length of - front to back - starting now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“‘Fraid not,” Thomas says, tapping the cane onto the hard material of the station floor.

A distant horn sounds. The train tracks judder. The station lights hiss and flare. Alex hears a chugging - evidently a train. Sudden lights blind him, and he throws up his arm to block it out, squinting.

“Are you ready?” Thomas breathes in his ear, suddenly right behind him. The wind is grabbing at his jacket and hair, and everything’s too loud, too bright, too much.

“No,” Alex snarls. “Of course not, what the fuck.”

“You did agree to it,” Thomas points out, voice soft next to his ear, but somehow clear over the sound of the train rattling through the station.

Alex can’t argue with that. “Is it ever going to stop?” He shouts instead.

“No,” Thomas tells him, a gleeful tone in his voice. “Get ready! One. Two. Three!” On three he shoves Alex straight into the moving train.

“WHAT THE _FUCK!_ ” Alex screeches, but he somehow, _somehow_ misses the wall and goes right through the doors that open right before he smashes into them, landing in the middle of what appears to be a dinner party.

At first glance, it looks like a normal old-timey train car. However, as Alex’s vision spins and re-focusses, he registers the smooth velvet seats and windows that flicker with every colour of the rainbow as the world spins by. There’s a red tint to the light, staining everything with its colour. With everything already so vibrant and bright, he has to look away.

“ _Merde!_ ” he hears.

Then, “Lafayette!” and _wow_ , is Alex starting to get tired of hearing Thomas’ voice.

“Thomas!” One of the two sole figures stands, almost upturning their chair as they flounce forwards, arms outstretched. Landing two square kisses on Thomas’ cheeks - _weren’t they meant to be air kisses? -_ they put their hands on their hips, pouting childishly. “You have been absent for a while, _mon ami_.”

“Forgive me, I was being sentimental by the tracks again.” Thomas’ apologetic smile doesn’t put an end the uneasy feeling that Alex gets.

“Of course.” Lafayette's tone is jokingly stern.

Alex turns his head back to stare at the ceiling some more. How did Thomas even make it into the same car he did? The train was moving so fast...

“And who’s this?”

“Alex,” Alex answers, still on the floor. He feels that if he attempts to stand, he’ll vomit everywhere.

The person - Lafayette - appears in the corner of his vision. “You’re adorable. Lovely eyes. I can see why Thomas chose you.”

“Laf,” Thomas says, voice sharp with warning that Alex can’t understand.

Lafayette rolls their eyes. “Yes, yes. _Desolé_.” They extend a hand to Alex, who takes it, deciding that he’s not going to puke any time soon.

Lafayette is wearing a crop top. If it can even be classified as that, with how flimsy it looks to be. This is the first thing Alex notices, eyes immediately focusing on their abs. Because Lafayette is _ripped_.

It contrasts to their face, which, as Alex has been looking, somehow has become more effeminate. Their hair resembles Thomas’ closely, though Lafayette has his pulled back in a fluffy ponytail.

“ _Je m’appelle Lafayette_ ,” They say, still holding Alex’s hand. They give a little bow and press a kiss to the top. “Call me Laf. Pleasure to meet you,” They purr, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

Alex blushes, flustered. “I - uh. Nice to meet you too.”

“This is Hercules,” Lafayette continues, gesturing to their dinner date, who hasn’t moved much since Alex arrived. “ _Ma poupée_ , say hello to Alex, hm?”

“Hi, Alex,” Hercules says, barely above a mumble, a not-all-there smile on his face.

His voice is slurred, almost drunken. Something about it is off, something about the whole thing is off - Alex thinks he should care a little bit more, but can’t summon the willpower to. And - “my doll”, Lafayette called Hercules. A weird French term of endearment, maybe? And the car - empty besides them - looks like it used to be a fancy dinner car, then was taken over by a toddler playing with bright colors.

“Apologies for interrupting,” Thomas injects pleasantly. “The two of you were likely in the middle of something, yes?”

“Yes,” Lafayette agrees, exchanging a look with him. “Apologies accepted, however. If you’ll excuse us?”

“Of course,” Thomas replies smoothly, landing a heavy hand on Alex’s shoulder and steering him to the door.

Alex glances back to see Lafayette flounce back to Hercules, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead, before settling into the seat beside him.

“Is he alright?” Alex asks Thomas lowly.

Thomas’ mouth twists. “Yes, Herc is fine. Just a little tipsy.”

“He didn’t have any wine -”

“Laurens!” Thomas interrupts, spotting someone sitting just inside the next car. “You been well?”

“I’ve been alright,” Laurens says. He glances at Alex. “I’m John. Hi. You probably just met Laf and Herc?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, refraining from commenting on their dynamic, and the interior of the car itself, which resembles the Mad Hatter’s tea party a little too closely for comfort. “I’m Alex.”

“Pleasure meeting you,” Laurens says with a smile, one of the most genuine he’d seen all day.

Alex quirks his lips. “Pleasure is mine.”

“I have to leave for a while,” Thomas says. “Business. You know how it is, Laurens. Keep Alex safe for me, yeah?”

“Alright,” Laurens agrees. “Not like I’m doing much anyway.” He scowls at the door to Laf and Herc’s car.

“Third wheeling?” Alex asks sympathetically. “I’ve been there, man. Sorry.”

“I’m used to it,” Laurens says with a shrug. Turns back to Thomas and raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone,” Thomas tells Alex. “Take care of him for me, Laurens. I want him in one piece when I return.”

Alex blinks, and Thomas is gone.

“Holy shit,” He says. Turns to Laurens and asks - “he’s not human, is he.”

“Very few people on this train are,” Laurens replies. He shifts, revealing - large grey wings unfold, larger than should be possible in the cramped car. It looks as if space is bending around them - the walls and ceiling of secondary importance, compared to his wings. They start grey, but become darker towards the edges, where they’re black and almost… burnt? Then they disappear, and Alex stares, because one second he swears he saw… but now... “Including me. It’s rude to ask.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Alex swallows, feeling the weirdness of this whole situation catch up to him in a drop of his stomach. _What was_ in _that weed?_

“It’s alright. I don’t really mind. And besides, you didn’t know. Just don’t bring it up with anyone else, okay?” He searches Alex’s eyes, as if trying to see whether he’ll stay true to his word.

“Yeah, okay.” He feels like a child, being gently told what to do in a world he doesn’t understand.

“Cool.” Laurens smiles. “Let’s talk about the train, shall we?”

* * *

“So there are twenty train cars -”

“- twenty that you are able to enter.” Laurens interjects.

Alex frowns for a moment, considering, before brushing it away. People probably just want their privacy. “And the dinner car is at the very start of the train?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. It’s more of a tea party car.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

Laurens and Alex laugh together for a moment, but it tapers off uncomfortably too soon. “Yeah. Sorry about Laf, by the way, they probably came on a bit strongly.”

“Just a little,” Alex agrees, thinking back to how flirtatious they’d been. “So when does the train loop back around to where it started?”

“We’ll probably pass by New York again in…” Laurens glances at his watch - a curious thing, Alex hadn’t noticed until now, gears and switches clicking near silently, a galaxy instead of a face. “About a week.”

“A _week_?” Alex demands. “Thomas just said I had to walk the train, he didn’t say anything about -”

“He was relying on you not asking,” Laurens interrupts, expression souring. “He tends to do that.”

“That’s - that’s ridiculous, what the hell?”

“You know what, I like you,” Laurens says abruptly, swinging around and facing Alex, who stops in his tracks. “Thomas often makes unfair deals. You probably got tricked onto the train in the first place, didn’t you.”

“Yeah,” Alex says shortly. “The contract was long, and I was high.”

“Let me make you another deal then,” Laurens says. “It’ll override his, because of what he is and what I am. You can get off this train now - I’ll even deliver you to the right place. I’ll still need your soul, but you can keep it until you die a natural death. In return, I’ll give you whatever Thomas offered you and more. Your mother -” He nods to Alex’s locket, which Alex immediately wraps a hand around. “Her picture’s in your locket. You wouldn’t carry that around unless there was something wrong with her, or she’s gone. I can bring her back, heal her completely.”

“Seriously?” Alex whispers. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You’re on a train full of non-humans, Alex, and you want off. You’re not going to get off for at least another week if you don’t make this deal. What do you have to lose? You already sold your soul once.”

“Okay,” Alex whispers. “Yeah. Do i need to kiss you, too?”

“Yes. But that’s really only a technicality. Just something to seal the deal, y’know?” Laurens produces a document the length of Alex’s forearm. “Reading this is the important part.”

He scans the document, alert for the word ‘train’ this time around. He nods, and Laurens steps forward, eyes lingering on Alex’s own as he gently cups his face. Alex leans forward ever so slightly, feeling Laurens’ breath feather across his lips when there’s a flash of light and he’s being torn away, back hitting Thomas’ chest. He breathes in sharply as one arm snakes around his upper body to hold him in place.

“Thomas!” Laurens says, eyes wide, stepping away swiftly. “I didn’t expect you back so soon -”

“Off my train, Laurens,” Thomas says with restrained anger. His eyes are burning, and Alex can feel the heat even without seeing them. “Get _off._ Now.”

“It’s not your train,” Laurens says. His jaw is clenched, but the fear is visible in his eyes. “You can’t just bully people off -”

“I think I can,” Thomas says. His grip on Alex’s chest tightens, and Alex begins to struggle to breathe. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, darling.”

“Laf likes me,” Laurens retorts. “If you kick me off, they’ll be upset.”

“Let them be angry. It’s not like they can do anything to me.”

“You’re a sick bastard you know that?”

Thomas’ breathing becomes more regulated - he’s actively suppressing his emotions at this point. “You’re only making this worse on yourself,” He tells Laurens. “Leave now, before you really piss me off.”

“You wouldn’t do anything in front of your new _plaything_ ,” Laurens spits, taunting.

Thomas takes a step forward, arm outstretched, and barks a word, something that leaves Alex’s ears ringing.

Laurens yelps, and vanishes. Alex thinks he hears a flutter of something, but figures he imagined it.

Thomas scowls at the place Laurens was standing, before whirling on Alex. “You shouldn’t trust him. You shouldn’t trust anyone you meet here.”

“You’re the one who left me alone with him, I assumed that was because you thought he’s trustworthy.”

“I -” Thomas pauses. “Fine. Alright. I’ll stay with you from now on.”

Alex follows Thomas across the rickety bridge connecting this car to the next one. Right before they walk out, he sees a flash of gray in his peripheral.  Except when he turns to look, nothing is there except a small feather of matching color, the size of a penny, lying on the ground. He bends down to pick it up, and carefully seals it into his locket, making sure Thomas can’t see. He’ll examine it later, when he’s left alone.

As he leaves, he allows himself to linger on a thought. That… maybe this _isn’t_ a dream.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirens, ghosts, and shapeshifters oh my

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes to shit

As they walk through the next car - shadowy and dark, with things in the corners that Alex doesn’t want to look at - the silence is deafening.

Thomas is still tense and energy seems to spark off him, his cane tapping sharply on the hardwood floor. 

Alex can feel the words bubbling up inside him, the need for any kind of explanation for what the  _ fuck _ just happened overruling common sense. But the dark oppressive silence of the car seems to have sewn his mouth shut, the thought of making any sound making his skin crawl.

But then they’re exiting the car, sudden fresh air hitting him in the face as he realises how stuffy the last one had been.

Not stopping to consider the soft tinkling of plates, and the clear light from the crystal chandelier, he whirls around. His fists clenched at his sides, he glares up into Thomas’ mildly surprised eyes.

“What the  _ fuck _ was that back there! John wasn’t doing anything wrong-!” 

Thomas sneers at this, looking at him as if he’s a child “Forgive me if I’m incorrect, but he was trying to break our deal - a deal you made fair and square. Explain to me how it wasn’t  _ wrong. _ ”

“It wasn’t _ fair and square _ !” He adopts a mockery of Thomas’ pose, deepening his voice. “I was  _ high _ . Still  _ am _ high, evidently, because there’s no other explanation for -”

“You knew perfectly well what you were doing. I think I explained myself quite well.”

Alex can feel himself getting redder and redder, anger building up inside him like a fuse ready to burst.

“I don't care if you fucking explained yourself, asshole-”

A small, but clear voice breaks through their arguing and Alex stutters to a halt.

“Thomas, please, we were having a rather nice meal.”

Turning, he sees a girl, with blue tinted skin and almost scale like patterns around her eyes, which are wide and bloodshot. Her hair is shiny and wet, but not dripping anywhere around her. The dress she’s wearing looks ripped, a delicate shawl wrapped around her arms. Her bare feet are spread on the carpet, a damp circle surrounding them.  _ Dream _ , Alex reminds himself.  _ Just a dream _ .

She looks angry, and Alex suddenly gets the idea to look around the room that they’ve entered.

It’s beautifully decorated, all blue and white, and he feels as if he’s stepped into the 18th century. Chandeliers dangle from the ceiling, shaking slightly as the train twists and moves. In the middle of the train car, a crisp white table cloth covers a round table. At one end of a table, instead of a chair, there’s just a chaise lounge. A man lies there, expensive furs draped on his person, jewels glittering, three young men reclining beside him.

Thomas lifts his hat off his head and bows over it smoothly. “Your majesty,” He says drily. “Long time no see.” Alex swallows as Thomas’ jacket shifts up slightly, and forces himself to look away.  _ Nope, nope, nope _ , Alex thinks.  _ You’re not thinking about his ass. You’re  _ not _ thinking about his ass.  _ He takes a peek. 

“Don’t sarcasm at me, young man,” The man says, and Alex yanks his eyes back up, instead meeting the gaze of the extravagantly robed man. His eyes are knowing, and Alex flushes as he winks.

Thomas laughs from somewhere deep in his chest, but he’s adopted a constipated expression. “I’m older than you are, Baron.” He grips Alex’s wrist, and pulls him closer. 

“Don’t be so possessive, Thomas.” The Baron makes a tutting noise with his tongue, and beckons for one of the young men surrounding him. The boy scrambles to obey. The Baron parts his lips slightly, enough for the boy to feed him two grapes, one at a time. At the third, he stops the boy’s hand, and gently sucks two fo the boy’s fingers into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and staring directly at Alex as he does. He releases the fingers with a quiet pop, and pats the boy’s ass as he clambers back to join his friends, flushed and beaming. “You should learn how to share.”

“Hey,” Alex finally speaks up, a flush still on his cheeks and his voice coming out squeakier than he’d intended. “I’m right here.”

“Of course, how silly of me,” the so-called Baron says, lifting himself a little off the chair. “Baron Von Steuben. And you?”

“Alex,” He replies. 

“Your friend there is getting quite angry, perhaps you should escort him to the next car?” Von Steuben waves a hand lazily in Thomas’ direction, barely acknowledging him.

Alex looks sideways at Thomas, who’s almost carefully neutral. The only giveaway to his true thoughts is the tight grip he has on his cane.

“I don’t need Alex to escort me anywhere,” Thomas says, his smile becoming more like a gritting of his teeth. 

“Well if you’re not upset, why not stay a while?” The Baron suggests, and runs his fingers through one of the other boys’ hair. Alex winces at the suggestion, seeing tension line Thomas’ face. “We’re almost finished with dinner, you could join us for dessert.” The Baron darts his tongue over his upper lip, slowly raking his eyes down Thomas’ body, then up again. “From what I’ve heard, it will be… delicious.”

Alex feels a sudden urge - from where he doesn’t know - to pull Thomas back and away from the Baron. 

Thomas glances down when he feels the tug, and resists the smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Jealous, darlin’?”

“No,” Alex shoots back, scowling. “I just want to move on, so I can get off this train faster.”

“Alright, alright. It looks like we will be taking our leave, Baron. Good day.”

“Of course,” The Baron says. “Eliza, dear, where were we?”

“We were discussing the welfare of nymphs, and the ways beings take advantage of them,” Eliza supplies, voice wavering only a little. Thomas glances over his shoulder at her, narrowed eyed. Alex sees his jaw tighten further. 

He looks back at the door, to catch one more glimpse of the blue-skinned girl. She catches his eye over the Baron’s shoulder. Nods slightly. “The next stop is London,” She says loudly, something thought out to fit her conversation, but very clearly for Alex’s ears. “I hear there are many well-meaning nymphs living there, willing to help the most weary travelers. Why, my sister lived in London for the longest time…”

The car door slides shut. 

“Eliza seems nice,” Alex says, slightly shaken. The meaning of her statement doesn’t escape him -  _ get off in London, my friends can help you back home.  _

Thomas makes a noncommittal hum, hand still loosely wrapped around Alex’s wrist. He looks to be deep in thought, and Alex sucks on his bottom lip, unsure whether to speak, or let him be.

These doors don’t open like the other ones had. Thomas slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small key, and fits it into the strangely iron door. As he pushes it open gently with a click, revealing their next destination, all Alex first sees is filtered shadows and faint lights.

Taking a small step forward, he glances down as his shoe crunches on… is that a line of rock salt? But a gentle hand under his chin makes him look up properly and he gasps.

Light had filled the train car as he stepped in, and he finally sees where the blue tint of the light was coming from. There’s water, simply floating around him, unrestrained by glass. Light filters through it gently, and… are those fish? Alex gapes at the sight of it, and he turns to confront Thomas -

Who is nowhere to be seen. Turning around and searching, Alex frowns. Thomas had simply disappeared without a trace. Pursing his lips, Alex peers halfheartedly into the murky shadow that seems to consume the other end of the car.

He felt himself tense as he walks slowly through the train car, ready for the water to come crashing down at any moment. The light seems to follow him as he walks, fish flitting in and out, casting strange shadows on the floor. The room seems to resonate with the rippling sound of the water, amplified by the adrenaline and blood pumping in his ears.

He’s just about getting used to the room, when he feels something wet and slimy stroke through his hair.

He - well he doesn’t quite squeal, but it’s something close - and flinches away, raking a hand through his now damp hair and staring up in disbelief.

The first thing he registers is that a hand is reaching down towards him through the membrane of the water. A webbed hand. Looking beyond that, he sees the slim toned arms, the freckles dotting their shoulders, and the sweet grin hiding behind sharp teeth. 

Playful brown eyes twinkle down at him, and he’s about to wave tentatively, when his eyes catch on the scales leading down his stomach, not to legs, but a tail. Red and orange, it waved slowly from side to side, the long flowing fins moving with it. 

Alex’s dumbstruck expression must look funny, because the...mermaid? Siren? Draws back their hand, clutching at their stomach through silent laughter. “Stop laughing,” he demands petulantly. 

They give another blinding grin before leaning forward, passing through from water to air with ease. And then they’re puffing their cheeks and - they spurt water all over Alex, drenching him. They’re giggling again when Alex gathers his thoughts enough to stop gaping. “Seriously?”

“You’re cute, little man. My name is John André,” the fish-person says, and Alex almost takes a step forward at the sound of their voice. It’s melodic, and almost sounds like wind chimes tinkling softly in the breeze, a harp thrumming in the undertones. They’re almost singing when they speak, an entrancing tune. “Jefferson left you at the door - an offering perhaps?”

“I - I am not an object - to - to be -” Alex trails off, eyebrows scrunched together as he loses his train of thought.  _ Traded… I am… not… forgetting… run, run, run - why am I - where am I?  _

“Is the little man getting nervous? Come here child, it’s alright.” The fish-person reaches out a hand, smile warm and sympathetic. “I can bring you to the light, I can solve your woes. All I’ll need from you, child, is your heart. I want to feel it in my stomach, I want to be close to you forever, I’ll keep you with me eternally, I promise on my own soul...”

Alex steps forward shakily, the words clouding his mind. He can’t register much between André’s whispery sing song voice wrapping around him and pretty, wide eyes locked onto his.

“I…”  _ Listen to them, _ an unfamiliar voice whispers in his mind.  _ What do you have to lose? _

He reaches up a hand, and André’s smile grows terrifyingly wide, teeth glinting dangerously and the look in their eyes shifting to something ancient and predatorial. “That’s it, little man. Just a little closer…”

“ **_NO!_ ** ” The word rumbles through the carriage, shaking the water dangerously. Alex falls backwards, jolted out of his trance, and dazedly watches the fish-person get thrown back, slamming back-first into the wall. The scream they let out reaches Alex, mutated by the water. He jams his hands over his ears, closes his eyes, as if that’d help. The noise ends soon enough however, and post-impact their body goes slack, tail twitching slightly as they hunch over and swim away.

“What the fuck was that?” Alex whispers, breathing still shaky and legs trembling. 

“That was a siren. Not too powerful, after so long without a proper catch, but just enough to ensnare you,” a voice speaks up - it’s faint, as if coming through a far away radio, static muffling its clarity. 

Alex spins sharply, scrambling and wary after his close encounter with the siren. Glancing around wildly, he squints through the shadows that seemed to suddenly be darkening around him.

“Where are you? Who are you?” 

A figure steps out of the darkness, and it takes Alex a second to realize what’s wrong. It looks like all the colour in him had been sucked out, leaving him as a desaturated version of himself.

He almost floats over to Alex, feet moving as if walking, but still sliding across the ground. His expression is one of careful wariness, and Alex tries to loosen the tenseness from his shoulders, knowing that he probably didn’t look like the best person to talk to.

“I’m Jonathan. Jonathan Bellamy.” His entire demeanor is mournful, and his clothes are formal, a mysterious stain just peeking out from the side of his jacket. 

“I’m Alex Hamilton.”

“I know.” There’s a pause for a second, before Bellamy speaks up again. “I would offer to shake your hand, but I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit incorporeal at the moment.”

Bellamy tries to crack a smile, but it fails halfway through. It’s as if he hasn’t tried to do it for a long while, and is just now realizing that the muscles in his face are tough and unwieldy.

His gaze flickers to something behind Alex, and he glances back, following the spirit’s gaze. A person - or perhaps it isn’t - stops short in the now-open doorway, and no matter how hard Alex looks, he can’t discern any significant features. It’s as if someone’s taken a blurry photo of someone far away.

Bellamy’s short breath behind him is the only thing that makes him sure that he isn’t just seeing things. However, when Bellamy steps - glides? - forward, and stretches out his arm, Alex gets the distinct feeling that this is something private that he shouldn’t be a witness to.

However this only seems to agitate whoever it is, and they slip away once more, disappearing into the further depths of the train.

Bellamy’s hand, still outstretched, weakens. The beckoning fingers curl in once more, and he brings back his arm to his chest. 

There’s a beat of silence, where the only sound around them is the calming ripples of the water.

“So. Jefferson just left you here did he? Typical. What did you do then, push him too far?”

Alex furrows his brow, unsure of how to answer. He hadn’t...had he? Thomas hadn’t seemed angry at  _ him _ . More at Eliza and the Baron. Who, he remembers longingly, were having a wonderful meal in the car just before this hellish one. 

“Oh,” Bellamy says, and now he’s frowning slightly. “He  _ was _ angry. But the anger wasn’t directed towards you.” He pauses. “Von Steuben pissed him off again, didn’t he.”

“I think so,” Alex agrees. The memories that had just been pushed out of his grasp were now floating slowly back into his head.

Bellamy groans. “The Baron is mostly immune to Jefferson’s temper. But the rest of us aren’t, and he tends to forget that.”

“Temper?”

“You haven’t seen him angry yet?”

“...no,” Alex says. “I mean, he seemed kind of pissed, before, when I -” Alex stops himself. “Doesn’t matter.”

Bellamy blinks slowly. “But he hasn’t been truly angry, has he.”

“No,” Alex agrees again. “He’s managed to restrain himself.”

“Jefferson doesn’t do restraint,” Bellamy says, thoughtful. “He must like you a lot. Which begs the question of why he left you alone here, of all places.”

Alex is silent, frowning at the still form of André, continuing to drift. 

“The exit,” Bellamy eventually prompts. “If you’d like, you can leave now.”

“Are you friends with him?” Alex asks instead. “André, I mean.”

“No,” Bellamy says in disgust. “He’s absolutely vile.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“You noticed the salt line when you came in, didn’t you? It’s a barrier to me. An actual wall. I can’t pass it.” He sounds tired, as if he’s tried.

“So you’re trapped in here with him?”

“Unless Je - unless I’m summoned, I can’t leave the car.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says sincerely. “But couldn’t you leave if I…?” Alex edges toward the door on the opposite end he came from, and frowns down at the salt, about to kick some of it out the open door when -

“Alex.”

“AH!” Alex windmills his arms, losing balance and falling face first into the saltline.

Or he would’ve, if not for a strong hand suddenly gripping his shoulder. Alex takes a deep breath to regain his composure, and uses the doorframe to push himself back up.

“Jefferson,” Bellamy says cooly. 

“Bellamy,” Thomas returns, releasing his grip on Alex only to settle his arm possessively around Alex’s waist. 

Bellamy floats forward a little, turning to Alex even as Thomas’ grasp tightens. “A word of warning for you, out of his ears,” he murmurs. “Follow your gut, Alexander Hamilton. Something is telling you that this train, its passengers - it’s wrong. Trust in your instinct. Something is up. Only fools will  _ wait for it _ .” At this, he straightens, and backs away. “I must bid you adieu,” He says, starting to fade. 

“Wait!” Thomas says. Bellamy pauses, and turns back towards him. “Good things come to those who hesitate. You’ve been patient. You might just see  _ him _ .”

“No,” Bellamy says, shaking his head and backing away faster now. “You know perfectly well what happens when I get near him. He doesn’t want to see me, please don’t make me see him…”

Thomas only raises an eyebrow, smile blinding with false sympathy. “Learn to be grateful when given opportunities, Bellamy.” He turns, pulls Alex with him past the salt, and shuts the door. 

“What did he say to you?” Thomas asks, jacket whipping in the wind. He leans an elbow on the door, stopping Alex from going further with an arm against his chest.

Alex flattens himself against the wall to avoid Thomas’ gaze, brain searching frantically for something to say. “I - nothing important.”

Thomas turns a little, so he’s facing Alex. “If it was nothing important, you won’t have any qualms telling me, hm?”

“Where were you?” Alex blurts in an attempt to change the subject. “You just disappeared and left me alone with that…  _ thing _ .”

“Don’t call other beings ‘things’, Alex. It’s rude.” His tone is chiding, and Alex’s fists clench at his sides.

“Why’d you ditch me, though? The siren - whatever it was - was very clearly hostile.”

“I thought you’d be able to handle the situation,” Thomas sniffs. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

“That’s not even - you drag me onto this train, and just expect me to fend for myself? I didn’t ask to be here, I don’t know how to deal with any of this!”

“You never answered my question, darlin’,” Thomas says, his tone bringing Alex’s rant to a stuttering halt. “What did Bellamy tell you?”

“It was just a joke,” Alex says, eyes darting around nervously, landing on anything, anything but Thomas’ face.

Thomas leans closer, frowning, crowding Alex against the door. “And what’s the joke?” His breath tickles Alex’s neck.

Alex swallows. Thanks everything for his cousin’s kitchen. “He asked, what is the herb that cures all ills?”

Thomas’s brow furrows, thinking. “There is no such herb,” He concludes.

“No,” Alex says. He looks Thomas dead in the eyes, pushes himself forward a little, and whispers, “It’s thyme.”

Thomas is silent. Alex watches his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Raises his gaze, only to get caught on Thomas’ mouth, and when Thomas exhales the air catches in his hair.  _ He’s really close _ , Alex thinks. Bites his lip. 

Taking in a breath is dangerous, as Thomas is so close that every inhale is rife with his musky scent,  the sharp clear scent of midnight, frost gathering at the edges of mirrors and cold gleaming silver . Alex is sure the cologne contains some sort of drug because  _ no one smells that good _ . If he shifts forward a little, he can almost -

“Hah,” Thomas says, and pushes off the wall. “I’m sure.” He laughs a little disbelievingly as he opens the door, ushering Alex inside. 

Alex holds the hope that it’s more at the punchline than the lie.

The next car is different from the past few in that it’s crowded, dirty, and  _ loud _ . It’s as if everyone in the train has decided to gather in one place, and has brought all of their belongings with them. 

“We’ve reached a public car,” Thomas supplies. He looks hilariously out of place here, all shining shoes and smoothly pressed clothes. 

“I didn’t notice,” Alex quips. He casts a glance around, instinctively looking for familiar faces, and almost trips over his own feet when he finds one. “Isn’t that -?”

“Eliza Schuyler,” Thomas says, and now he’s spotted her too, lips pursing in an expression of distaste. 

Alex feels guilty for bringing her to his attention. “How did she get through that other car without me noticing?”

“She didn’t,” Thomas says. “Only people with the key can get through certain cars. If you don’t have the key, you turn the handle, and it bends space so you enter the next one instead.”

“So you couldn’t leave me here, you had to ditch me with the mermaid.”

Thomas just smiles pleasantly, tucks his cane under his arm and his hands in his pockets. He saunters forwards, crowd parting before him like the red sea. Eliza looks up at the faint commotion, and adopts an alarmed expression. “Thomas!” She says. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Eliza,  _ darling _ ,” Thomas says. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping a child one of Von Steuben’s boys noticed sitting alone,” Eliza says, glancing at Alex. 

The conversation between the two of them continues, but Alex doesn’t pay attention, instead turning to observe the rest of the car. The noise level has risen back to its original state, and no one is staring at Thomas anymore, aside from the occasional glance. 

A few of the occupants look humanoid, but most have distinct characteristics that mark them apart. Dog headed beings pant next to windows, their heavy breaths fogging up the glass, looking out on a world too blurred to see. A minotaur is perched uncomfortably in one of the too-small booths, his horns just barely scraping the ceiling.

In one seat is a pale figure, with skin almost stretching over the bone and muscle of their body. Alex is about to look away sharply, when pale silver eyes meet his, and their face splits open in a grin. Their teeth are painfully sharp, and Alex’s feet almost instinctively stumble him back into Thomas’ side.

He’s about to step away again when an arm wraps around his waist, like a cat weaving itself around your legs. Pulled flush against Thomas, he thinks he should feel uncomfortable but instead… he feels safer than he had before.

Most of the humanoid beings he sees are backed into corners or up against walls, or surrounded on all sides by incomprehensibly inhuman creatures. He hears a sobbing sound from the closest wall, and cranes his neck to see - there’s a teenager - or someone humanoid - curled in a ball, a sickly figure pressed against her backside, murmuring in their ear. The sobbing gets louder - Alex swallows and looks away.  _ The creature’s probably comforting her, _ he thinks.  _ She’ll get off soon. It’ll be fine. The others are fine, after all. _

The others do seem fine - clinging to each other or another being, smiling. Gazing lovingly at whoever they’re hands are clutching. Alex sees a few others being held the same way Thomas is holding him, and it makes him feel safe so… why shouldn’t that be the same for others? A few are running their hands gently through humans’ tresses, like he’d seen the Baron do. For a moment he remembers the odd cold feeling of the siren’s hand sliding through his own hair, and a shudder runs down his spine.

A sudden slight pressure from the arm around him startles him, but he goes with the movement as it brings him forward a little, pressing his back into Thomas’ chest. He closes his eyes slightly and stifles the surprised noise that wants to make its way from his throat as Thomas begins to copy what the others are doing - idly stroke Alex’s hair. 

Eliza is staring, he notices. He meets her gaze and tilts his head slightly, questioning. She frowns, but gives no visible answer, eyes flickering up to meet and hold Thomas’. 

“Please!”  

Alex winces and buries his face into Thomas’ shoulder at the strangled sound, emerging from where he’d seen the teenager. 

“Mr. Edwards,” Thomas calls out sharply, lifting his voice above the buzz of the crowd. “If you would be so kind to relocate, or otherwise settle down, that would be  _ most _ appreciated. Her noises are upsetting my guest.” Thomas’ hand feels heavy on Alex’s hip. Alex lifts his chin, opens his mouth to object, when Eliza shakes her head slightly. Her gaze flicks swiftly between him and Thomas before she frantically mouths, “you need to leave”.

“What?” He mouths back. 

“The London stop is in five minutes, I can show you a -”

“Thank you, Mr. Edwards,” Thomas says, turning back to Eliza. She snaps her mouth shut. “Have a nice day. You were saying, Eliza?”

“Yes, I, uh. Peggy sends her thanks for the roses.”

“Tell her it’s no problem, I’d love to send her any kind she wants.”

“She’d like daisies,” she says flatly. Alex notices the way her hands entwine when she says it, as if she knows she’s crossing a line.

Thomas stiffens, hand pausing in its movement, tangled in Alex’s hair. “Honey, you know I can’t do that,” he says, voice dropping into a tone so pitying it’s almost condescending. 

“Yeah,” Eliza says softly, hands falling away to her sides. “I know.”

“Alex, do you mind if we stay a little longer? Eliza and I still need to discuss one more detail.”

“It’s fine,” Alex mumbles. He lifts Thomas’ arm off his waist and waits for his hand to retreat reluctantly from his hair before turning and looking around more in the section he hadn’t seen while in Thomas’ embrace. Everything is essentially the same.

Alex huffs, and looks around at the section he hadn’t been able to see before. Everything is essentially the same.

A few creatures meet his gaze curiously as he begins to move slowly through the crowd. They don’t part for him as they did for Thomas, but there’s a wariness about them all the same. His eyes trail across the carriage, until something grabs and tugs at his brain telling him to  _ look there right there _ . 

A pair of huge watery brown eyes stare back at him from a thin face that has already started disappearing from his memory. Skin flushed and full of life, so unlike what it’d been towards the end of -

He finally realizes who he was looking at so intently, his mind scrambling to keep up because  _ this couldn’t be happening this couldn’t be her she isn’t  _ **_meant to be here_ ** before he half screams, stepping back too fast, catching his feet on some slimy surface and falling over. Arms pinwheeling, he sees faces turn towards him in a blur, and he tenses, ready to hit the hard ground, before a pair of strong hands are catching him. 

“Right after I scold someone else for noise level,” Thomas grumbles, and hauls Alex to his feet. “What was that about?”

“My  _ mother _ ,” Alex hisses. “I saw my  _ mother _ .” He yanks himself out of Thomas’ grasp and rounds on him angrily, uncaring of all the stares he’s garnering. “What the fuck did you do, you sick  _ bastard? _ Are you just taunting me? You’re condescending enough, then you go and just dangle my  _ dead mother _ right over my nose? Is this all a game to you?” His voice crescendos into a yell, and there’s an uneasy murmur going around the crowd now. “And this, all this power imbalance shit. Why is everyone,” he swings his arm out to indicate the crowd, “So goddamn scared of you?”

There’s a beat of silence, Alex’s breathing loud and harsh in his ears. 

Then, the anger that had filled him rushes away, leaving him with only the cold fear coating the bottom of his stomach.

Thomas’ grip on his cane is tight and whiteknuckled as he stares down at Alex. The look in his eyes makes Alex’s throat go dry, and  he swallows heavily.

“What makes you think.” The pauses in between phrases contain a terrifying chill, and no one else in the room dares to make a sound. “That you’d be _ important _ enough. To waste the amount of power it would take. To retrieve a  _ cold, dead soul. _ ”

Alex’s jaw clicks as he closes it tightly, eyes wide as Thomas advances step by step, the tip of his cane tapping a rhythm on the floor.

“And that isn’t to say I couldn’t. Why do you think that everyone’s so… oh, how did you phrase it?” His laugh chills Alex from head to toe, the sheer emptiness of it echoing through the room. “So. Goddamn. _Scared_ of me? It’s because I could kill everyone here in a second and _I wouldn’t break a sweat.”_

His long fingers find a hold under Alex’s chin. Alex swallows thickly, meeting Thomas’ cold, piteous eyes as Thomas leans forward, breath ghosting over his barely parted mouth. 

“Oh, it’s a game, Alex,” Thomas murmurs. “Try not to lose in the first round.”

And between one blink and the next, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos comments blablabla we're a bunch of nerds blabla a lot of stuff happened in this chapter it was pretty great BACK TO WRITING THE REST OF THIS FIC


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The air of the train,” Eliza says lowly. “It’s not normal air. It’s dangerous. Pay attention to the other humans here. What do you see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so in this update - very implied sin, and it's implied that alex is drugged for a bit  
> this chapter also moves v quickly but we've been told it works for the story so

Alex doesn’t move, feet frozen to the ground as he tries to figure out how to breathe again.

Eventually the crowd disperses again, sensing the excitement has finished. 

“Alex,” he hears, and feels a hand touch his shoulder, cold even through his jacket. He shudders at the feeling of water spreading through the cloth. “Alex!”

“Um,” he manages, and turns to meet Eliza’s worried eyes. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” She asks. 

“I think so,” Alex murmurs. 

“I told you,” she says. “I  _ told _ you to leave.”

“He didn’t give me much of an escape window,” Alex says.

“Well he’s gone now,” Eliza says. “There’s an exit soon. I can’t go far with you, I have to - I have a sort of leash, I have to check in every so often.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says. “I think I’ll be fine, though.”

“I don’t,” Eliza says, voice flat and knowing. “Thomas was pissed, Alex. And when he’s pissed, people usually die.”

* * *

Alex ends up moving to the next car with her, holding her hand so the other beings won’t bother them much.

He tries not to pay attention to the whispers going around about him, but one in particular grabs his attention.

“That one’s more vocal than the others, isn’t he. Wonder what Jefferson sees in him.”

“Must be good in the sack,” its friend responds, chortling heavily.

Alex grips Eliza’s hand a little tighter. A few of the creatures reach out to him, clawing their hands at his clothes, and he presses closer to her. She rubs her thumb across his knuckles and walks a little faster.

“C’mon,” She mutters. “A little further.”

They make it to the end of the car. Alex breathes a sigh of relief as Eliza shuts the door behind them. “Thank you. For walking with me. I probably wouldn’t have made it far without someone grabbing me if you hadn’t.” 

“There’s three more cars like this,” Eliza says. 

“Great,” Alex grumbles. “Will you have to leave soon?”

“I can maybe make it through the next car. I’m not sure, though.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He can make it through a few cars on his own. “Shall we?”

Eliza squeezes his hand before tugging at the door. Instead of sliding open easily like it had for Thomas, it rattles and clicks as it opens.

The interior of the car is different from the last, and Alex gets the impression that this is another dining car.

There's a clear path through the booths, soft red carpet under his every step. The candlelit lamps provide soft lighting, and the flickering of the flames makes shadows dance on the walls. The creatures sit delicately on the seats, eyes fixated on the various humans seated - or slumped - beside them.

Some of the beings - humans included - are gently picking up pieces of food and placing them in others’ obediently opened mouths. Alex shudders, glimpsing sharp teeth closing inches away from retreating fingers.

The car isn’t silent - a low murmur permeates the air - but it’s quieter than the previous one. “Don’t draw attention,” Eliza says. “In general, of course, but especially not here.”

“Why?” Alex asks, taking her hand again as she starts to head down the aisle. 

“The air of the train,” Eliza says lowly. “It’s not normal air. It’s dangerous. Pay attention to the other humans here. What do you see?”

Alex furrows his brow as he stares round the train car. He tries to see past the dazed expressions and the too-wide smiles of the humans, but gets stuck on them. Just how vapid they are. 

Some pairs are pressed up against each other, legs entwined, whispering sweet nothings while being fed glistening red strawberries and crumbling tarts.

Looking the other way, he sees wings flared, silver shining with streaks of gold. He almost takes a step closer to see the face underneath the feathers, but Eliza keeps a firm hold on his arm. Looking back, she shakes her head, eyes wide. 

Turning to look once more, he sees that the wings have opened up, and he gets a glimpse of a sharp birdlike face before it turns away, nuzzling at the neck of someone situated in their lap.

Their expression is one of dazed bliss as well, their arms limp at their sides.

“Right,” Eliza says, disgust in her voice. “Right, okay. Walk faster, Alex.”

“What? But why -”

“Faster.”

“Okay.”

“When a human enters the train,” Eliza says as they walk, quickly gaining on the door, “they get changed. The moment you breathed the air, you changed. Observe carefully, Alex Hamilton. I’ll need to go the moment we exit the car, but remember - you cannot trust Thomas. Do you hear me? Your mind will be screaming for you to submit to him, but you can’t listen, you have to  _ trust your gut. _ ”

“Bellamy said something like that,” Alex says. “Why?”

“Whatever he said, trust that advice. Almost there, come on.”

“Why, Eliza? What is so fucking wrong with this train?”

“I can’t say, I -” Her hand phases through Alex’s entirely and she swears quietly. “You’ll have to open the door. I can stay until you pass through, but I’ll have to leave. There’s an exit in the car after the next, you’ll see it. There’s another stop soon - don’t worry about what you’ll do out there, just trust me when I say you need to get off as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “Okay.” He yanks open the door, and watches as she starts to fade. “Thank you, Eliza. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” She says, a wistful smile passing her face. “I just want to hel-”

And she’s gone.

With her body no longer blocking his view of the inside of the car, he catches a glimpse of a wolf-human hybrid - a werewolf maybe? - pulling the human next to it up by his hair, ignoring his cries in favor of dragging him to the opposing end of the car. Alex looks away, and he sees a humanoid being staring at him with familiar eyes, eyes he’d seen in the last car - his mother’s eyes on someone else’s face.

Alex closes the door quickly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

He steels himself before hopping to the other deck, placing a hand on the handle lightly. “Here goes,” He mumbles, turning it and pushing. 

The lighting in this car is fluorescent and flickering, and there are lightbulbs hanging free from the ceiling that swing, pendulum-like, with the movement of the train. It’s less crowded than the first public car Alex walked through, but it gives him the feeling of being small, and insignificant, without the confidence and surety of Thomas by his side. 

He takes a step forward, and closes the door, wincing as it clicks loudly behind him. This time to walk through, he has to whisper a few more “excuse me”s and nudge a few more slimy limbs than he’d like to think about. 

He thinks for a moment that it’s going pretty well, he hasn’t attracted any attention, when he walks straight into someone and jolts, jerking his head up.

“What’s a little boy like you doing all alone on this train?” The man grabs Alex’s wrist before he can make a quick escape. 

“I’m not alone, I, uh, the guy I was with had to leave to take care of some business.”

“And he left you by yourself? How rude of him. Is there anywhere you’re trying to go, son?”

“Please, uh, don’t call me son,” Alex says. 

“Hey, G Wash!”

The man sighs resignedly. “What do you want, Hale?”

“I was just thinking, would you like me more if at the next stop I got off and found you a human kid? You keep going on about wanting to catch one, like in the good old days -”

Alex wrenches his arm out of the man’s grasp and tries to hightail it out of there, but the small glowing man - Hale, apparently - has a hand on his shoulder before he gets very far. 

“Oh, nevermind. I see you already found one.” Hale sounds dejected, and Alex would feel sorry for him, if he were in any other situation. 

“You know,” Alex whispers. “If you let me go, he won’t  _ have _ a human anymore. So you could go get him one, and win his favor.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Hale says. 

The man tenses, a warning tone entering his voice. “No, Hale, don’t you dare -!”

Hale lets go of Alex, and Alex quickly shimmies away through the crowd.

The man follows him, and the crowd shifts out of his path just a little, less than it did for Thomas but more than it did for Alex. They’re talking at normal volume now, pointing to Alex. “Fuck,” He mutters, and speeds up as best as he can.

“Hah,” he hears by his ear, and then the man is materializing in front of him. 

Alex grinds to a halt, staring up, wide-eyed. Something about the being’s expression make him wary. He wants to get far, far away from this creature - humanoid as he is. 

“You can’t run from me, son,” The man says, and the noise level of the crowd has just begun to reach fever pitch as Alex tries to back away. The crowd clears a circle around him and the man. Alex keeps backing up, hoping they’re dumb enough to let him back out of the car entirely, but then. Silence.

There’s a wall of solid muscle behind him. He freezes. Swallows thickly.

The being who was chasing him is staring at whoever’s behind him with a strange expression - half incredulous, half terrified. 

Alex shivers and closes his eyes when breath tickles his ear, waits for someone to move in the dead silence of the car. 

The being behind him shifts a little, and Alex hears an intake of breath from somewhere amongst the crowd before the being is whispering in his ear: 

“Miss me?”

Alex exhales in a rush, whirling around and grabbing onto Thomas’ arm before he collapses. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he almost doubles over, Thomas catching his other shoulder before he manages to. Alex inhales shakily and hides his face in Thomas’ chest. 

Thomas shifts him so Alex is tucked under his arm, hand in perfect position to comb through Alex’s hair. “Oh darlin’,” Thomas says, pityingly. “You didn’t know. Shh, I’m here now. You’re safe.” Thomas shifts further to glare over Alex’s head. “Washington.”

“Jefferson.” Washington is watching the two of them carefully. “I wasn’t aware he was yours.”

“I’m not anyone’s possession,” Alex mumbles into Thomas’ lapels.  _ Not because it’s him _ , he tells himself. _ I just don’t want to see Washington. _

Thomas chuckles at him and tugs his hair, pulling his head back enough to look into his eyes. “Of course not,” he says indulgently, and pokes Alex’s nose with his free hand. Alex scrunches it and gives Thomas a baleful look before burying his face back into the security of Thomas’ shoulder. 

“You must’ve left him alone for a reason,” Washington tries, tone coaxing. “He talks back, from what I’ve heard. Word of your argument reached this car before he did.”

“Are you really going to fight me over a human?”

Washington flexes his jaw, eyeing Alex consideringly. 

“Washington,” Thomas says dangerously. 

“No,” Washington decides reluctantly. 

“Good.” Thomas scowls at the crowd still gathered around them. “Do you have nothing better to do?” He sneers, and begins walking to the end of the car, practically dragging Alex with him. Alex resists a little, but glimpses the same face from before - someone strange, with brown eyes staring, bloodshot, just like hers did when she… - and he clings tighter and gives up fighting.

“Didn’t last long, did you,” Thomas says, closing the door behind Alex. “Alright, darlin’. Let go for a little.”

Alex detaches himself slowly, Eliza’s warning running through his head.  _ You cannot trust Thomas. _ “Yeah. I didn’t.”

“You got through the dinner car faster than I expected,” Thomas says stiffly, eyes narrowed and searching. “How did you manage that?”

“I had help,” Alex admits, after a beat of silence. “Eliza stuck around after you left, she helped me through.”

“Of course she did,” Thomas says, relaxing. “Eliza is too nice for her own good.”

“She wanted to help me through more, but something strange happened. She started to fade, and said she had to go check in somewhere. Is that… normal?”

“Kind of,” Thomas says. “She’s a nymph, they can’t stay away from their sources for too long. Hers is probably just immovable.”

“Oh,” Alex says.

Thomas crosses to the other car, and Alex follows carefully, watching as Thomas opens the door. “Only one more public car,” He says. 

Alex takes one step in and resists the urge to retch. There’s an alcoholic smell pungent in the air, so thick he almost gags on it. The passengers here are loud and rowdy, and most are inebriated.

Thomas takes Alex’s hand, and Alex tries not to feel relief at the contact.

They begin to make their way through the car - which resembles a bar.

“Careful,” Thomas murmurs, leaning close. “This car is prime ground for pickpockets and leprechauns.”

Alex lingers on the absurdity of that statement for a moment before he feels a tug on the chain his locket is hanging from.

“Hey!” He says, turning and spotting a small man, around three foot, levitating off the ground with arms outstretched, an expression on his face as if Alex had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. Alex ducks under Thomas’ arm to hide behind his torso, hand coming up to grasp hastily at the chain. All three of their eyes are drawn to the ground as this movement dislodges a small grey feather.

There’s silence between them. Thomas turns to lift a questioning eyebrow at Alex, who swallows and hopes Thomas doesn’t realize where he got it. 

“That’s Laurens’ feather,” the small man says incredulously, and Alex bites back an annoyed groan. “How did  _ your _ human get a feather from Laurens?”

“We’ll talk later,” Thomas tells Alex, his tone brooking no argument that a conversation _ would _ be happening. “Lee,” He glares. “Dare I ask?”

“Sorry, Mr. Jefferson, sir. I can’t help it. It’s in my nature, y’know.”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “You know just as well as I do that’s a lie.”

“But sir, I’m sorry. Your human’s locket is just so  _ shiny _ .”

“You’re not drawn to shiny things, you’re drawn to  _ gold _ .”

“It was the feather,” Lee blurts out. “You know Laurens and I have a rivalry.”

“It’s not much of a rivalry with the power imbalance between the two of you,” Thomas drawls, smirking.

Lee falters a little. “He might be a little bit more powerful, but -”

“You’re, what, a gremlin? Leprechaun? John Laurens is a fallen angel, Lee.  _ Little bit _ is an understatement.”

Lee bristles at this comment, glaring up at Thomas through baleful eyes. “Whatever. I could take him.”

Alex can’t hold back a snort at this, and Lee’s eyes flick to meet his, a sneer crossing his face. “Oh you think that’s funny? I’d have a better chance than a human like you.”

Stepping out from behind Thomas, Alex opens his mouth, ready to deliver an angry retort. He’s interrupted by Thomas’ arms sliding around his waist, pulling him securely back into his chest as his chin rests on the top of his head.

“Well, he’d have me, so I think that would be a fight in his favour.” Alex can feel the vibrations rumbling through Thomas’ chest as he speaks lowly to Lee.

The leprechaun blanches and offers a nervous smile, meeting Thomas’ narrowed eyes.

“Ah well...that changes everything entirely of course.” There’s a moment of silence in the conversation, Alex content watching Lee squirm.

“Well, I’d best be taking my leave, people to see, things to steal, you know how it goes.” He’s babbling as he backs away, bumping into several people before turning and darting off into the crowd, the murky green tails of his coat quickly moving out of sight. 

Alex rests a hand on Thomas’ arm - which is still around his waist - and debates trying to pull it off him. Thomas just hugs him closer, resting a chin on his shoulder, and he sighs, before relaxing into the hold. It’s nice. Thomas is warm, and comfortable. His body isn’t soft, but isn’t bony. Alex almost thinks he can drift off, eyes closing slightly in a sudden bout of tiredness, before he feels -

Something’s poking his ass. 

_ Oh hell no _ . 

Alex practically yanks Thomas off him. When he’s released he bolts forward, and turns to give Thomas an incredulous glance.

Thomas has the nerve to look smug.

Alex glances up, locks gazes with the brown eyes that have been haunting him throughout the entire train, and tugs at Thomas’ sleeve. “Can we go?” He whispers, avoiding looking at where he saw the strange piercing gaze.

Thomas is confused, but he pulls him through the crowd. One being isn’t as quick to move out of their path, swaying heavily from side to side, but Alex finds he isn’t that scared, with Thomas here.

The door slides open easily as they hop from one train car to the next. The rattling train tracks are deafening in Alex’s ears.

“The feather,” Thomas starts, and Alex hurries to explain.

“It was when you left me with him, at the beginning of the train. He disappeared, and when we left the car I saw a flash of wings and then a feather on the ground, and I didn’t know what it was, and was still confused about the non-human thing so I picked it up.” He doesn’t know why he wants to prove himself to Thomas as much as he does, but ignores the voice in the back of his mind screaming for him to question it.

“Ah,” Thomas says. “Well, like I said. Laurens used to be an angel - one of the purest and most forgiving beings in the universe - and he fucked up so bad that they cast him down in a Fall, something only few others of his kind have gone through. You’d better stay away from him - he’s not exactly safe.”

“He seemed nice,” Alex mumbles, looking down and away.

“Beings here are deceiving,” Thomas says. “Most of them aren’t who they say they are.”

“Even you?”

Thomas just smiles enigmatically and opens the door. 

This train car has the same air that the Baron’s had had, as if they’d stepped back in time. There are significantly less… people in this car then the last, and Alex breathes out a sigh of relief. Being surrounded by so many figures had made it seem like he was unable to breathe, but here the air seemed sweet and fresh.

Alex glances around, hoping to see Eliza again, when he spots another familiar face instead. “Is that -”

“Yeah,” Thomas responds, and heads over to where Lafayette is fawning over Hercules. “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette!”

“What,” Alex deadpans. “ _ What _ ?”

“Their name,” Thomas says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Of course it is,” Alex mumbles. 

“Thomas!” Lafayette feeds the last bit of cheese in their hand to Hercules, before straightening. “ _ Comment ça va? _ ”

“I’m well, and you?”

Lafayette sends a loving gaze in Hercules’ direction. “We have been relaxing here,” they say.

“Lovely,” Thomas says, and steps to the side a little in order to wrap his arms around Alex’s waist again. 

“Ah, Alex!” Lafayette says. “How have you been?”

“Alright,” Alex says, not bothering to mention that he could understand the French just fine. 

There’s something subtly different about Lafayette - maybe it’s that they had, at some point between their first meeting and now, let down their hair. It’s arranged in a sort of cloud around their head. Or maybe it’s something about the light, because the shadows on their face are thrown differently, the smile on their face gets sharper and - something about them appears more arrogant and familiar, but Alex can’t place it.

Lafayette tilts their head, face splitting into a smirk. “You’ve been on an adventure,  _ mon ami. Non _ ?”

Thomas is grinning, almost predatory, and his hold loosens slightly. Alex raises an eyebrow questioningly, but Thomas just shakes his head, loose curls bouncing - a halo around his head. 

“ _ Ma poupée _ wanted to try the chocolate fondue fountain they have just installed,” Lafayette says. “It is, how you say,  _ divine. _ Alex, give it a try.”

“I am kind of hungry,” Alex admits. He goes for a strawberry, but Lafayette stops him, winking.

Thomas releases Alex, reaches around him to snag the strawberry and hold it under the waterfall of chocolate briefly, spinning it to cover the entire thing. He draws back his arm and turns to face Alex, before holding it to Alex’s lips. 

Alex searches Thomas’ eyes for any kind of emotion. Finding none, he inhales deeply through his nose, closes his eyes, and parts his lips, letting Thomas push the chocolate covered berry through.

When he bites, the flavour explodes on his tongue. It’s not what he was expecting - the berry is plump and juicy, and some of it drips down his chin, joining the chocolate already dribbling down from the corners of his mouth. He moans a little at the taste, and feels as if he’s been lifted into the clouds - euphoria singing in his veins, his shoulders relaxing at the calm that seeps across his body and the taste coating the inside of his mouth. 

Licking his lips at he swallows, he glances up, meeting Thomas’ half-lidded gaze.

Glancing to the side he sees that Lafayette has already sat back down, slipping chocolate covered morsels into Hercules’ mouth as they whisper sweetly into his ear.

His attention is grabbed quickly back however, as Thomas slides into the booth opposite them, pulling Alex down with him. He sits down obediently, only to give a yelp of surprise as he’s tugged closer to Thomas’ side.

“What do you want to try next darlin’?” Thomas murmurs into his ear, one hand coming up to stroke languidly through his hair.

As his gaze drifts over the various platters of food, his eyes catch on the plate of marshmallows.

Thomas follows his eyes, and plucks one from the pile. He holds it under the fountain, a little clumsier this time. “Crap,” he mutters as some chocolate spills onto his fingers. He holds the marshmallow up to Alex anyway, and quirks his lips as Alex takes the entire thing in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before stopping Thomas’ retreating hand.

Thomas watches with half-hearted interest as Alex’s tongue flicks out, lapping at one of the chocolate spills on his fingers. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Alex glances up at him through his lashes, smiles, and closes his mouth around the tip of Thomas’ pointer finger, sucking away the last bit of chocolate.

Thomas’ breath catches.

Alex lifts off, and bites his lip before shyly whispering, “could I have a cherry, please?”

“Of course,” Thomas says, pupils blown wide as he stares at Alex’s slightly swollen mouth, and licks his own lips. “Whatever you want, darlin’.”

* * *

The transition from one car to the next is a quick one, Alex still half dazed. Strangely enough, before they move inside, Thomas pauses, face twisting into a conflicted expression. But then he shakes it of, turning the handle and pulling, the door unlocking with a soft click.

There’s an immediate difference of atmosphere in this car. It’s darker than all the others and shadows stretch across its walls, reaching fingers tugging away at any spots of light. Blue light filters in through shaded windows, and the very air seems to carry frost. The car is so absent of sound that it makes Alex’s ears pop.

Alex makes to speak, to ask why there seems to be no life in this car, but Thomas presses a finger to his mouth making a soft shushing sound.

It feels as if any sound, any sudden movement would shatter the careful balance of the cold and quiet. He glances in every booth as they pass, but sees no sign of life, and the feeling of unease in his stomach grows with every step they take.

He’s beginning to suspect that there’s absolutely no one in the deserted train car except for them, when a soft shifting sound from a booth in the far corner makes his head turn.

A weak figure sits, curled up on one of the seats, face turned to stare out the window, at the lights and colours flashing by too fast for the eye to see. It illuminates his pale face, bounces off his glassy eyes. 

Alex’s brow furrows, and he looks back at Thomas, who’s staring in the same direction with an expression of wistful longing. 

“Who is that?” Alex whispers, and he winces as even that hushed whisper bounces back, tinny in his ears.

Thomas doesn’t seem to hear him for a moment, and Alex is about to ask again when he shakes his head slowly. 

“You… don’t need to know. Come on. We should get going.”

Taking his hand gently, they walk to the exit of the car, Alex glancing back one last time to the small, sad figure before the door is sliding closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who the smol is :D  
> pls comment, me and lance fuckin thrive off comments, literally all the comments we've gotten we start screaming with each other over messenger  
> thank u all for all the positive things you've said, it really makes our days when we see them :)))


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisses, rhymes and imposters' crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gay

In the next car, two people are sitting across from each other at a little round table. The girl - with long, grey hair and bright white wings - is wearing what looks like battle armor, plates of metal shifting as she heaves in breaths between sobs, holding the boy’s hands.

The boy looks almost exactly like the boy in the car before. 

Thomas inhales sharply, eyes locked on the boy. His jaw clenches dangerously. 

The boy had looked up at the door opening, and quickly yanks his hands out of the girl’s when he sees Thomas. “I have to go,” he says to the girl, backing up to the other door. “Next week, Dolley. I promise.” His form starts to get blurrier as he moves far away, but Alex sees his face once more as the door slams shut, and swallows. 

The boy had his mother’s eyes.

Dolley doesn’t seem to notice his departure, continuing to sob into the table, hands curling into fists. 

Thomas takes Alex’s shoulder and steers him around her, trying to make their way to the end of the car quietly. Then there’s a gust of wind right in front of Alex’s face, and Thomas’ hand is ripped from his shoulder. 

“LET ME IN!” Dolley screams, mace raised over her head threateningly. Her eyes are burning, and her wings are flared, caging Thomas against the wall even more than he physically is. Alex steps forward, but Thomas jerks his chin upwards, indicating for him to stay where he is. 

“In where?” Thomas says.

“The Phantom Car, you piece of shit, you know exactly what I’m talking about! I need to see him!”

“You know I can’t do that,” Thomas says, face blank and voice carefully neutral. 

“ _ Won’t, _ ” she hisses, disgust clear in her voice.

“...won’t,” Thomas amends after a heavy pause. 

“Give me one reason not to kill you right now,” Dolley says, and lifts her mace higher, her armour clanking as she adjusts her grip on the weapon. 

“Well, if you kill me,” Thomas says, and reaches carefully into his pants’ pocket, “You’ll never get this.” He pulls out a small metal object, flips and catches it when Dolley makes a grab. 

“You just revealed where you keep it.”

“I’ll just put it somewhere else,” Thomas says flippantly.

“Oh yeah, just like you put James somewhere else, out of mind!”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw clenches. She grins in a dangerously predatory smile, moving in for the kill. “Another human, though. Really? I shouldn’t be surprised at how fast you’re  _ replacing him _ .”

Alex coughs, and Dolley looks up. “I’m still here,” He points out, trailing off at the look in her eyes.

Thomas waits until Alex appears to be looking straight at Dolley to slide the object inside his jacket and tuck it somewhere. Alex makes a note of the location.

“He’s not a replacement,” Thomas says, but there’s something in his voice that suggests otherwise. 

“He better damn well not be.”

“Why do you want to get in that car so badly?” Alex asks. 

Dolley straightens, turning to retort, and Thomas takes the opportunity to dematerialize, reappearing by Alex’s side. “We’re just passing through, darling. You know you don’t want to fight me on one of my good days.”

Dolley lowers the mace and watches them silently as they cross to the other door. 

Thomas opens it, and Alex passes through. Thomas, however, hesitates as he hears the metal clank onto the floor, and Dolley’s sobs resume. 

“Dolley,” He says softly, turning back to her. She glares at him, still shakily heaving breaths. “For what it’s worth… I am, truly, sorry.”

He waits a moment for a response. When he doesn’t get one, he gently closes the door. Just before it reseals, he hears her wail of despair, and as his stomach twists in an unfamiliar feeling of guilt, he gets the urge to leave, go somewhere,  _ anywhere _ \- he can’t stand to see Dolley’s accusing gaze.

“I’ll be back,” Thomas says, and then he’s gone.

Alex gapes, left with more questions than he had started with. “Alright,” He says. “Okay.”

Turning around to look at the room that he’d been left in, he notices that once again, he seems to be alone. Completely alone in fact.

The light bulbs that hang from the ceiling flicker with every movement of the train, and it looks as if no one’s been inside for a long while. The rug under his feet is worn and frayed, and the leather of the seats is worn, the vibrant red fading away.

He takes in a shuddering breath, and feels as if it’s the first proper one he’s taken ever since he stepped on the train.

Emotions that he’d forced back of panic and fear and sheer bewilderment tumble to the front of his mind, and he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, sliding heavily into one of the seats, resting his forehead against the cold surface of the table.

Alex feels hot tears leak out of his eyes, dripping down his eyelashes onto the table. His sobs tremble through the air and bounce back into his ears, echoing in his brain. All he’d seen, all he’d been through was scrambled in his brain, but throughout it he held onto one thing. 

His mother's soft voice as she held him, humming a haunting tune that had haunted him ever since she’d -

He breaks off from that train of thought, physically flinching as if he’d been burned. Wiping away in vain at the snot and tears on his face, he freezes as a hesitant, familiar arm slips around his shoulders.

The touch is frail and gentle and he can barely bring himself to turn his head when he comes face to face with that sun-kissed face, red high on her cheeks and large, pale brown eyes. Her lips are curved in a small smile as she stares down at him, and his lip wobbles for a second before he throws himself forward, arms wrapping tight around her, a child once more. 

She hushes him gently and deposits soft kisses on his forehead. Curled up in a ball, he presses his face into her comforting warmth, shoulders shaking as he pulls in heaving breaths.

His thoughts drift in her embrace, wandering through flashes of images, before they stop short at the memory of Lafayette, how his face had changed under the strange light of the train car. 

His brow furrows as he thinks harder, searching through his memories, as to why that stood out so much for him.

Glimpses of that car flash before his eyes, fuzzy and unclear like a dream - a sly spreading smirk, a pair of half lidded eyes, the sharp sweetness of strawberries on his tongue.

Then Thomas is embracing him, his intoxicating cologne all around him and the soft material of his suit under his fingers.

Alex looks up through tear stained eyes to see him, eyes pitying, and normally predatory smile soft. 

It’s a split second decision, but he surges up, eyes screwed shut as he presses their mouths together, lips sliding over Thomas’. It’s clumsy - their foreheads are bumping and teeth clicking together. He can taste the salt from his tears and leans back for a second to lick his lips before climbing into Thomas’ lap and kissing him again, slower this time. 

He almost panics when it seems as if Thomas isn’t responding at all, before one hand comes up to press against his lower back and he’s kissing back, head tilting just so. Alex nips at his lower lip and he feels more then hears Thomas’ chest rumble in a low chuckle.

“Burr, what the  _ fuck _ ?”

Alex wrenches back at the sound of Thomas’ voice, which shouldn’t be possible, given what Thomas’ mouth was previously occupied doing. 

“What?” Alex manages, staring. Two Thomases are in the car with him and he’s beginning to be confused as hell. 

The Thomas he wasn’t just kissing’s expression is thunderous. The shadows of the car become more prominent, reaching out and covering the entire room. Thomas’ eyes are fire, burning embers in the sudden near-darkness. The feeling of absolute rage permeates the car, enough that Alex can almost feel it vibrate through his bones. “ _ BELLAMY! _ ” Thomas bellows, turning to the ceiling.

Alex’s eyes widen as the ghost appears, phasing in and out of corporeality. “Jefferson,” Bellamy rasps. 

“No, please,” the Thomas next to Alex whimpers, throwing himself out of the booth, then trying and failing to scramble away from the flickering ghost. “ _ Please _ , Thomas, you know it hurts, please -” he breaks off into a scream, figure becoming fuzzy as he collapses forward, shaking. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to -” he cuts himself off, throwing a hand to his face and starting to retch violently.

“Jefferson,” Bellamy repeats, pained.

“Shut up,” Thomas snarls, watching as his double solidifies into a smaller form. Darker skin, less hair. Shorter. “Get  _ up _ , Burr.”

“Stop it, please, he can’t,” Bellamy pleads, desperation in his voice. 

“Thomas,” Alex starts, inching closer to the edge of the booth. “It was me, I kissed him first, I thought he was you -” He feels an invisible force slam him into the wall, and stops talking, breath knocked out of him.

“Not now, Alex,” Thomas growls. 

“Don’t ‘ _ not now’ _ me,” Alex says incredulously. “You just tossed me aside, literally. Wow.”

“It’s not your fault because you didn’t know about his transformations,” Thomas says darkly, nudging Burr’s prone form with the toe of his boot. “He shouldn’t have approached you.”

“He approached me as my  _ mother _ ,” Alex says. “He was  _ comforting me _ . It was my fault because I thought too hard about - about the train and the deal, and  _ everything _ , and he was obviously forced to change!”

“He could’ve pushed you away!” Thomas shouts, and Bellamy scrambles back to avoid being walked through as Thomas stalks to the booth. He plants his hands on the table and hisses, “But you’re right, Alex. It is partly your fault. When he transforms, he changes to your ideal version of the being. Not the real thing. You should’ve noticed! That’s why I -” He swallows and stops abruptly. Pushes up and away, walks back over to Burr. “Leave, Bellamy.”

“Thank you. Sir.” The ghost disappears in a burst of static, after one last lingering glance at the figure on the floor. 

“Don’t make me tell you twice Burr,” Thomas says, pinching his nose. 

Burr scrambles up to standing, and fuzzes over again before solidifying as the boy from before - the one with Dolley. He swallows as he realizes who he’s shifted to, and says, “Do you want me to -?”

“Yes. Leave. Please,” Thomas says. He still has one hand to his face, though from what Alex can see, he’s less angry and more just… tired.

The door slides shut behind Burr.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, breaking the silence. Thomas holds up his free hand. Alex closes his mouth. 

A beat passes, then Thomas walks over slowly and slides in, opposite him in the booth. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

His voice is flat, and Alex can’t decipher any hidden meanings in his statement.

“I was. Um.” Alex clears his throat. “I was when I thought he was you.”

Thomas huffs disbelievingly, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Alex says. He swallows before saying carefully, “I’m wondering - wondering if the real thing is better.”

Thomas looks up from where he’d been studying the lines of the table, eyes searching his. “Really.”

Alex cringes and waves his hand in the air. “Stop repeating yourself it’s making me nervous you make me nervous hell  _ I  _ make me nervous I didn’t have to confess to that okay ignore m-” 

Thomas reaches across and yanks Alex closer, catching his mouth in a kiss. “You talk too much,” Thomas mutters, and deepens it, biting at Alex’s lip, making him gasp, before Thomas’ tongue slides in, licking around Alex’s mouth as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of him. 

“Mmph,” Alex agrees, the only sound he’s able to get out before he completely loses the ability to speak, eyes closing as the smell of  _ Thomas _ floods around him, and he marvels at how he ever could’ve thought that Burr was Thomas.

Kissing Burr was like a rippling stream. He knew what was coming, and how it was going to happen, but it still seemed fresh and clean, as if nothing like that had ever happened to him before. 

Kissing Thomas is like a waterfall, feeding into a deep dark lake, with no idea what would happen beyond the surface. He feels like he’s falling into the kiss with no concept of where his hands are, what he’s doing. All he knows is that Thomas is  _ there _ , presence impossible to ignore and every movement filled with self-assured confidence.

He would have been content with never doing anything else again, but Thomas pulls away, leaning their foreheads together as they both take in panting breaths. 

Thomas grins his sharp shark-like grin, but it’s softer at the edges, something in his eyes, and one hand comes up to stroke over Alex’s cheekbones.

“So. Was it as good as you thought it would be?”

Alex hums, a contented smile on his face as he feels himself begins to drift off.

“Better.”

 

* * *

 

The next train car is almost identical to the previous. 

Burr is there again, looking like he had when Bellamy appeared, but in less pain. He’s whispering urgently to a woman sitting in the middle of the floor, staring vacantly at the wall. When he sees Thomas, though, he whispers one more thing to her before sprinting to the exit, not caring that the door slams behind him. 

The woman is wearing a white hospital gown, and she’s rocking slightly back and forth. Her hair is in a frizzy mess in front of her face. 

“Quickly,” Thomas murmurs, and places a hand on the small of Alex’s back to push him gently forward.

There’s a faint giggling that gets louder the more progress they make. Halfway through, when they’ve almost reached her, she lets out a real laugh and her head whips around to face them. They grind to a halt. Her teeth are bared in a terrifying grin, and her eyes are more whites than irises. “You’ve never felt a chill like the chill from the train, a terrifying hiss of a whistle,  _ insane _ ! The air that you breathe makes you mindless and meek, the food that you eat makes you pliant and weak!  _ Don’t trust the air you breathe, dear boy, don’t trust the ground under your feet! _ ”

Alex inhales sharply at her words, recognizing the last couplet from the old folk song his mother used to sing for him. 

The woman pushes herself up onto all fours and crawls forward a few steps before rising to two wobbly legs. She collapses forward and Alex grabs her arms on instinct, wincing as her nails dig into his skin. She stares directly into his eyes, her own bloodshot. “ _ It keeps going on, going on, going on _ ,” She singsongs, warping the tune into a minor key and mocking the melody. “ _ It never ends, it  _ never _ ends _ . You love your mother more than anything, so desperate, so prideful - to hope you cling. But she is dead, she won’t come back! You’ve lost everything, time to face the facts. Isn’t he a perfect gentleman, darling? He’s lying to you - why bow to the king?”

“Theodosia,” Thomas warns. 

She backs up, releasing Alex from her death grip. “And you, you treat  _ them _ like toys, careful and calm, collected with poise.”

“James -” He starts, and there’s that  _ something _ in his voice again.

“ _ James _ ,” She mocks, “Don’t even get me started. You can’t justify him, if you could you’d be heartless. You took and took and took away his life, your attempts to heal him started with a knife. He’s broken now, you can’t deny - you’ve given up, you don’t even try. You keep him locked up in a cage all alone. You watch him - not touch - as you sit on your  _ throne _ . He’s only a pet to you now, isn’t he? You started out friends but he ended up on his knees.”

“Stop now,” Thomas demands, but his voice is weak, and Alex starts at the wavering sound of it. “Theo. Please.”

“The one in power, isn’t truly. The fool - of course! - will rise, duly. Your spell grows weak, he’ll break it soon, he’ll return to you when you whisper the tune.” She laughs again, high pitched and wild, and Alex has a terrifying thought that this is what could happen if he were to be left alone on this train.

And if he clutches Thomas’ hand a little tighter and shuffles closer, then no one has to know. Thomas begins to head to the end of the car, ignoring Theo as she flexes her fingers threateningly at them. 

“Run, run!” She cackles. “You can’t escape! You can’t run from nightmares, not even when you wake!”

Her laughter escalates as they exit, and only stops completely when Thomas practically yanks the door off its hinges trying to get it closed. 

“Who’s James?” Alex asks, after the door is sealed once more. 

“No one important.”

“He’s the boy in the Phantom Car, isn’t he? That’s what Dolley called it.”

Thomas hesitates. “Yes.” 

Alex pushes open the next door. “But -”

“Alex!” Eliza straightens, and swallows when she sees Thomas with him. “Thomas. Long time no see?”

The car is empty besides her, though identical to the last two.

“It has been,” Thomas says pleasantly. “You’re doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Eliza says. She takes an unconscious step back when he takes one forward. “I was just going -”

“Nonsense,” Thomas interrupts smoothly. “You can stay a while, can’t you?”

“S-sure,” She says, and smiles hesitantly. Her eyes flicker to Alex’s and her mouth tightens. 

“Peggy liked the daffodils?” Thomas asks, moving to lean against a wall, pulling Alex into his chest as he does. 

“Yes, of course,” Eliza says. “She likes every flower. She has them covering our train car now. Angelica keeps teasing her that we could make our car public, as the greenhouse.”

Thomas laughs at that. “Well your car  _ is _ modeled after a forest, so that’s logical.”

“Yeah,” Eliza agrees. “You also wanted, um, plans for converting the train to run on diesel instead of steam? I have blueprints for changes, here.” She nudges a stack of tracing paper and a few rolled up blue papers. 

“Beautiful,” Thomas says, and releases Alex to go inspect them. 

Eliza walks up to Alex as he does. He doesn’t give her more than a suspicious sideways glance, but she keeps looking back at him nonetheless.

“That was a bad decision,” She whispers. Alex sees Thomas stiffen in the corner of his eye and opens his mouth to warn her, but she shushes him. “Listen to me now - you don’t know Thomas. No one truly does, except James. If you want to know the truth, you need to talk to James.” She hesitates. “You shouldn’t have eaten the chocolate. You should’ve listened to Bellamy. You should listen to Theo.”

“Eliza -”

“These plans are wonderful,” Thomas interrupts, straightening from where he’d been bent over them. “Alex, if you could go on ahead? I’ll meet you in the next car, I just need to discuss a few… details… with Eliza.”

“Alright,” Alex agrees, but Eliza has a deer in headlights look on her face, as if she’d rather be anywhere but there.

He looks back, just before the door closes. He catches a glimpse of the two of them, only about a foot away from each other. Thomas is looming over her, teeth glinting from the cheshire grin he tends to sport, eyes glistening with an unidentifiable emotion. Eliza catches Alex’s eye. He can read the fear there, but she takes a breath, nods slightly, and turns to face Thomas head on. 

The door clicks closed.

Alex stares at it, as if he’s hoping he’ll develop x-ray vision and suddenly be able to see what’s happening inside. 

Eventually, he sighs, and moves on to the next car. It’s empty. He slides into a booth again, and lets his head thunk to the table. Again. “Can he really love?” Alex wonders aloud. 

He glances around, paranoid, then rests his chin on his hands when he finds no one. “There’s the obvious barrier of human to… whatever he is… and I don’t even know what species he is!” Silence greets him in response. He sighs. “But can he - whatever he is - truly love anyone? I mean, Burr shapeshifts into people the person in front of him is thinking of, right? Does that mean Thomas just… constantly thinks about whoever this James person is? Or does Burr shift into loved ones? Because that seems to be the pattern -” 

He cuts himself off, eyes fixed on a little stain on the table. _I guess that means I love him, then?_ He thinks. _Burr turned into my mother and Thomas for me. James for Dolley. Himself for Bellamy and Theodosia…_ _James for Thomas_. “It does seem to be the pattern,” He whispers.

“What pattern?” 

Alex jolts upwards, wincing as he hits his head on the hard back of the booth. “Nothing. Just. Thinking,” He responds, watching Thomas stride over to him. “Just thinking.”

“Just thinking, hm?” Thomas quirks up his lips, and taps Alex’s forehead. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s go.”

“What happened with Eliza?” Alex asks, standing and trailing behind Thomas. 

“Nothing,” Thomas says, echoing Alex’s words. “She had to leave again, to get back to her source.” There’s a glint in the smile, and a wolfish expression flashes through his eyes. Alex watches him warily as he opens the door. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He thinks about Eliza’s grim smile, the fear in her eyes. About James and Dolley. About Burr and Theo and Bellamy. About Lafayette calling Hercules “my doll”. He thinks about the  _ wrongness _ of the train, the too-sweet taste of the strawberry Thomas had fed him. 

He thinks about the key in Thomas’ jacket’s inner pocket. 

_ If you want to know the truth, you need to talk to James.  _

He makes a decision, and takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. “Okay.”

__

* * *

 

The next car is more like Von Steuben’s. There are a few more people scattered about on fancy couches, but the layout and decor are the same. “Thomas, Alex!” Lafayette calls, waving from a red cushioned couch. “Our paths keep crossing, how curious.” Hercules and John Laurens are sitting together across from them.

“Indeed,” Thomas says, amused. He heads over to them, only pausing briefly to make sure Alex is following. “Laurens,” He says coolly. 

“Jefferson,” Laurens returns, not looking up from his hands.

Lafayette rolls their eyes. “What did you say you would do,  _ mon ami _ ?”

Laurens grits his teeth, and with obvious difficulty, tells the table, “I’m sorry for trying to override your contract.”

“Accepted,” Thomas says indifferently. “Don’t do it again.”

“Of course,” Laurens agrees, still scowling mutinously at the wood.

“Good boy,” Lafayette says sarcastically. Laurens stands and leaves in a huff. “ _ Il parle français? _ ” Lafayette asks Thomas lowly, indicating Alex with a flick of their eyes. 

“ _ Je ne pense pas, _ ” Thomas responds. “ _ Pourquoi? _ ” He turns to Alex. “ _ Parlez-vous français? _ ”

“What?” Alex fakes an innocent expression. It seems to fool him. “Is that French?”

Thomas’ mouth quirks in a smile. “Bless your heart, darlin’. Nevermind. You haven’t really talked to Hercules, have you?”

“No,” Alex agrees. “Can I -?”

“Of course,” Thomas says. 

Alex sits by Hercules, and smiles tentatively. “Hey, I’m Alex, we met before.”

“Hi Alex,” Hercules responds, voice still slightly slurred. 

Alex frowns. “Are you okay?” His eyes are vacant, staring directly at Alex’s. He has a dopey smile on his face, even as Alex frowns harder.

“ _ I asked because I want to make sure I don’t ruin whatever plan you have, _ ” Lafayette says, still in French. 

Thomas shrugs. “ _ I doubt you will. Besides, it’s not as if he’ll be leaving anytime soon. _ ” Alex resists the urge to jump away at that. Because, what? “ _ He hasn’t realized that the train has no end. _ ”

“ _ He can walk it for the rest of his life looking for freedom but he won’t find it,”  _ Lafayette concurs _.  _ They pause.  _ “They’re so pretty together _ .  _ So innocent. So… easy to manipulate, no? _ ”

“Mm,” Thomas agrees. Alex tries to relax his muscles, to not show how tense their conversation is making him. He’s not sure he succeeds. (Hercules seems content to just stare off into space, so Alex lets him be.)

“ _ Such pretty toys, _ ” Lafayette continues. Thomas snickers quietly. “ _ Imagine how beautiful they’d look fucking each other, just for us _ . _ I’ll bet you - they’d do it if we asked. _ ”

Alex is sure that they can hear the sound of his heart breaking, from how loud it is in his ears. His stomach drops to his feet and he has to take a moment to breathe. _Toys_. _They think of us as toys. Laf just suggested… I was right then, wasn’t I? Thomas really_ doesn’t _have the ability to love._ _And at this point I’m surprised Laf didn’t ask me to call them_ Master _when I first met them_ , Alex thinks bitterly. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Lafayette ever again after hearing that - or Thomas for that matter - but he has a plan to stick to. He raises his voice and says, “Laf?”

“ _ Oui _ ?”

“Can I ask you something -” Alex starts, glancing at Thomas, then away again, “- alone?”

“Of course, of course. Un moment, s'il vous plaît.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow at Alex, but Alex just smiles reassuringly. 

They take less than a moment to stand, but take a few to smooth out the wrinkles in their clothes. “ _ Allons-y _ ,” They say.

Alex waits until they’re just out of Thomas’ earshot to turn to Lafayette, hesitating before saying quietly, “If I were to...flirt with Thomas, how would I go about it?”

Lafayette stares at him. Alex starts to fidget as the seconds tick by until a delighted grin spreads over their face and they say, “ _ Mon nounours _ , I thought you’d never ask.”

 

* * *

 

Thomas and Alex move onto the next car quickly after that. Thomas is frowning thoughtfully, unsure what Alex could’ve asked Lafayette about. Alex is practically vibrating with energy. 

This car is empty again. Alex is starting to feel confused about how many cars are empty, but concludes that there are probably just a lot of private ones most creatures spend time alone in. 

“Thomas,” Alex says, stopping in the middle. 

Thomas turns, confused. “Yes?”

“I just feel,” Alex breathes, and steels himself. He closes the distance between them, stops short when he feels Thomas’ exhale whisper over his skin. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“You  _ have _ been doing that quite a lot lately,” Thomas agrees quietly, watching him. Still confused.

Alex laughs breathlessly, and reaches out, hand shaking. He walks his fingers up Thomas’ chest lightly, stops them at his chin and presses a finger to Thomas’ lips in a “sh” motion. “No talking,” Alex whispers. There’s a beat where they’re both absolutely still and silent, before Alex removes his finger. Thomas licks his lips, tasting the salt Alex’s hand had left behind. 

Alex begins unbuttoning Thomas’ suit jacket, looking up to confirm that he’s still okay. Thomas makes no move to stop him, so Alex finishes unbuttoning it and runs his hands down Thomas’ torso, curling his fingers a little at his pants before running a finger along the beltline and tugging at the front. “I…” Alex starts. He bites his lip in indecision for a moment before he thinks, fuck it. “I love you,” He whispers. 

Thomas’ breath catches and he swallows. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Alex murmurs.  _ If you did, you wouldn’t mean it, _ he thinks angrily. He leans up, sweeps his tongue over Thomas’ collarbone before latching on, sucking a bruise into his skin. His hand carefully knocks into the inside of Thomas’ jacket, and he clenches his thumb and forefinger together, depositing his prize into his own pocket as discretely as possible. Not that it matters, with how flushed Thomas is getting - he probably wouldn’t have noticed if Lee had showed up and started a striptease.

“I,” Thomas starts, sounding more flustered than Alex had hoped for him to be. 

Alex smiles into Thomas’ skin, and presses his entire body forward, into Thomas’, letting out a throaty moan as he does. 

Thomas’ head dips to lean against Alex’s, and his arms wrap around Alex’s body, hands resting on the small of his back. 

“Please,” Alex whispers, shifting even closer and clutching at Thomas’ lapels. He stares into Thomas’ eyes and bites his lower lip. “You can have me, any way you want me.” 

Thomas swallows thickly and says, hurriedly, “I have to go.”

And then he’s gone, a chill seeping through Alex where his warmth had once been. 

Alex waits for a moment to make sure he’s truly gone before he grins smugly, and checks his jacket pocket for the object he’d stolen. His grin widens when he feels the cool metal against his skin. “Jackpot,” He whispers. “Time to run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A conversation that happened while writing chap 5 of part 2
> 
> dori: alex has so much bad luck today
> 
> lance: Karma
> 
> dori: whatd he do????
> 
> lance: E xis t e d
> 
> lance: Sa va ge
> 
> (the next chapter is the end of part one get r e a d y)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I JUST WANTED IT ALL TO STOP, THOMAS! WHY COULDN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HO BOY WAS THIS FUN TO WRITE ;;; )))) good luck with the pain my friendos
> 
> it was interesting bc me and lance flip flopped between the two povs - one of us would write thomas and the other wrote alex and we like followed behind each other and did a few edits n stuff but it was r l y f u n
> 
> yeah so enjoy the pain!!! this is the end of part one!!! we're probably going to keep them on the same fic, not make it a series, but there is a distinction - part two is hella dark. hella. so we'll probably change the rating to explicit before we post pt2 ch1. 
> 
> (i ripped the spells off the supernatural wiki, dont own 'em)
> 
> but yeah, have fun. go forth.

Thomas lands clumsily. Or, well. Clumsier than he usually does. He’s breathing heavily, and shaking.

That’s a first.

There’s something running through his veins, now. Something he hasn’t felt since -

James.

It’s not love. Someone like him - something like him - could never love any being. No, he has no soul, he’s incapable. Unable. Unfit, unqualified.

Inadequate.

Thomas lets out a rush of air, a parody of a laugh. He glances around the barren train car and flicks his fingers, locking the door.

Alex had left a bruise on his collarbone, a hickey. Thomas runs his fingers over it unconsciously, then lets his hand drop. _A human_ , he thinks. _Of course the only two beings I have ever cared for are human._

He hadn’t expected Alex to return the affection outside the euphoria and haze the chocolate fountain had induced, thought he’d be safe of ever falling for him. The flirting had caught him off guard. He wasn’t cautious, careful. Alex had the upper hand for a few precious seconds, and a few seconds are all it takes to win. _It’s a game, Alex,_ Thomas had told him. _Try not to lose the first round_.

The match has been unclear from the start. Nothing about this has been clean cut. But now? _Someone_ is losing.

And it isn’t Alex.

Thomas fumbles with his pockets for a few moments, before remembering he had changed the location of the Phantom Car key to his jacket pocket.

_His jacket pocket._

“...No.”

Alex was in the car with him and Dolley. Alex was there, facing him, as Dolley faced away, when Thomas slipped it into his jacket. He’d thought Alex looked away, but-

“No,” Thomas whispers. His hand lifts up slowly, reaches into his inner jacket pocket.

_He leaned up, swept his tongue over Thomas’ collarbone before latching on, sucking a bruise into his skin. His hand carefully knocked into the inside of Thomas’ jacket._

Too carefully.

“ _No._ ”

The pocket is empty.

_The one in power, isn’t truly. The fool - of course! - will rise, duly._

He takes a breath, tries to contain his anger.

_Your spell grows weak, he’ll break it soon…_

He fails. Closes his eyes, spreads his arms wide and lets loose a torrent of energy, barraging the walls and denting the metal. He’s left with mere smoking remains. Takes another deep breath.

_...He’ll return to you when you whisper the tune._

Screams.

“ _ALEX!_ ”

* * *

Alex hurries back through Lafayette’s car, waving at him once with a sweet smile before stepping through the open door into the next car.

He expects it to be empty, but instead when he opens the door, he stops short. Dark water floats overhead, and the passageway is entrenched with shadow. Looking down, the salt line gives off a faint glow, like bars on a prison window reflecting moonlight.

Stepping through carefully, he curses at the light that immediately flickers down. Once so friendly, he can now see it as what it would be used for. An alarm, but not for time - simply to alert Andre when fresh prey has entered the vicinity.

Alex shudders, hurrying through the car. Hopefully the siren is asleep, or not paying enough attention to see him.

He makes it through most of the car when he sees a dim glowing figure in one of the booths, shoulders hunched over. Face buried in his arms, Bellamy doesn’t seems to have noticed him and Alex bites his lip, feeling guilt thrum through him.

He reaches the door and breathes a sigh of relief. Looking back as he opens it, his heart jumps as a flash of red scales catches on the light. Quickly slams the door shut behind him as he exits.

He breathes for a moment, furrowing his brow. That definitely wasn’t the order the cars had been in before…

The key card burns in his hand and he yelps, opening his fist to stare at the metal, which almost seems to wink smugly at him.

He lets out a breath of annoyance, rolling his eyes. “As if this wasn’t already hard enough.” He mutters, before shoving it back into his pocket and sliding the next door open.

The first thing he registers is the table in the middle of it, with various nicks and scratches. Maybe from some kind of sword. The next is that he’s being pushed against the wall, a dagger at his neck and golden eyes flashing dangerously.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Dolley snarls, and Alex’s breath hitches as she presses the blade harder against his neck, almost breaking the skin.

“I - I’m not here with Thomas -”

“Doesn’t matter.” She interrupts, baring her teeth in some violent facsimile of a smile. “I’m glad that asshole isn’t here. Now when I send you back, it’ll be in pieces.”

His eyes widen, and his hands scrabble against the smooth wood of the door, desperately trying to find the handle.

“N-no! Please!” He chokes out, “I want to help, I want to help James!”

There’s a pause in the press of the knife against his throat, and he looks up, meeting Dolley’s sharp eyes. They search his, and he suddenly feels like a small mouse trapped under the paw of a cat.

It’s silent in the car, the only sound being Alex’s panicked breaths, before Dolley steps away, wings folding behind her back and slotting the knife away in one of her many sheaths. Picking up the mace from where it’d been leaning against her leg she frowns at him.

“And why would Thomas’ new pet want to do something like that?”

Alex wraps his arms around himself, feeling his heart pang with an unidentifiable emotion.

“I’m not his pet.” It comes out soft, softer than he’d meant it to, and Dolley’s eyes become somewhat more gentle.

“Well. I’m not going to stop you. Just,” She hesitates, as if unsure of what to say before continuing stiltedly, “Just tell James that I haven’t abandoned him. That… that I still care.”

Alex doesn’t question it, simply nodding. She gives him a weak smile as he walks towards the door, stepping out of his way. Right before he walks out however, she calls out behind him.

“Wait!”

Turning around, he sees her toss something. It glints as it flies through the air and he reaches out to catch it. It’s a golden amulet, with runes and patterns carved delicately into it.

Looking up to meet her gaze, she nods down at it with a soft smile.

“It’s a celtic amulet. It’ll protect you, and keep you out of Thomas’ sight. It was James’.”

Alex looks down at the necklace with new eyes, cradling it gently in his hands, before taking the worn leather straps and putting it gently around his neck.

Meeting Dolley’s gaze, he swallows. “Thank you. And - and yeah, I’ll tell James what you said.”

Pushing open the door, he glances over his shoulder. She crumples into one of the seats around the table, grey hair spilling over her face.

* * *

_I can still see him_ , Thomas thinks, head in his hands. _He’s only human. He can’t hide his soul._ He lifts his awareness into the air, searching for the familiar spark.

It flickers and disappears just as he latches onto it, and he’s sent tumbling back in the non-corporeal plane. The feeling is familiar. Too familiar. And given the car Alex was just in, he knows exactly why.

He takes in a deep breath.

The sound that leaves him is far from human.

* * *

Just as Alex opens the door into the next car, he flinches. A roar of rage echoes through the entire train, and his throat goes dry at the sound. There’s no one it could possibly be except…

“Thomas.” He whispers.

Quickly, he steps inside the car, feeling somewhat safer now that he isn’t outside and vulnerable.

The lighting in this car is dim, most of the windows shuttered and the lamplight fading in and out. Only a few people are sat, alone in booths, knees drawn up or faces pressed against the windows.

Turning his head to the side, at a hushed whisper, he sees one of them being comforted, a person rubbing gently at their shoulders as they sob.

About to turn and walk through the car, he stops short when the figure turns their head, making eye contact with him before dropping it away quickly.

But Alex has already seen those brown eyes, and he walks forward, guilt making his throat feel tight.

“Burr.” His voice is soft in the silent car, and as Burr turns to look up at him, his form goes blurry before solidifying as Alex’s mother.

Alex only flinches a little this time at the sight of her, but Burr does too, looking away quickly.

“I’m sorry.” Burr murmurs, staring down at the limp hands resting in his lap. “You should leave.”

And Alex almost nearly does, unable to stand the sight of her. But instead, he stretches out his hand and lays it on Burr’s shoulder.

“I… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Burr lets out a short, dry laugh, but it sounds more like a sob then anything else. “It’s fine. Nothing more than what I deserve.”

Alex hesitates for a moment, before he asks, “Why Bellamy? He seems like he loves you -”

Alex breaks off hurriedly as Burr hunches over, a pained noise resonating from his chest.

His eyes are wet as he looks up at Alex, hair falling in delicate waves over his shoulders.

“I killed him, you know. It was me. And yet,” He lets a wet, broken sob, “He still loves me. He still _loves me_. When I can’t even love _myself_.”

Alex stays silent, one hand coming to rest on Burr’s shoulder as his head drops into his hands.

“That’s why I can’t become myself, even when I’m alone. I just fade into a shadow when no one’s near me, you know.”

“Oh,” Alex says, thinking about the shadow in Andre’s car. How Bellamy had reacted, reaching out but not daring to come close. “I’m sorry, Burr.”

“Aaron,” Burr corrects. “It’s Aaron Burr.”

“Aaron, then,” Alex says, and smiles.

Burr’s hands swipe hastily at his tears as one of the other people in the car lets out a wail of despair. Straightening up, he plasters a smile on his face, before standing.

“Are you going to James’ car?”

Alex nods slowly, unsure of the reaction that Burr will have.

But instead of anger, his smile grows distant, and there’s something sad and melancholy in his eyes. Alex wants to hug him, he wants to gather Burr in his arms and whisper about how everything will be okay. But he refrains.

“When you talk to him… be gentle. None of this is his fault. He was just…” Burr sighs. “In the wrong place at the wrong time.” He shakes it off, pointing towards the exit.

“You’d better get going. Thomas will be coming and he’ll be mad. After all,” He glances down at Alex’s pocket. “You didn’t get that key with his permission.”

Alex nods shortly, and backs away hurriedly, Thomas’ angry shout still echoing in his head.

Burr is already moving away, form changing as he slides into another booth, arms coming to rest around a hunched, tense figure.

Alex glances back twice before he closes the door. Something inside him twinges, wants him to go back, but.

He forges on.

* * *

“Have you seen Alex?” Thomas demands, appearing directly in front of Lafayette. They yelp, and drop the decanter of wine they’re holding. Thomas catches it with one hand, and places it on the table. “Well?”

“He ran through a few minutes ago, _mon ami. Pourquoi?_ ”

“He took the key,” Thomas says, gritting his teeth. “He flirted with me, got too close, and took the fucking key.”

“ _Fils de pute_ ,” Lafayette mutters in exasperation. “I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“What?”

" _Ce n'est rien_ ,” Lafayette says, mustering up a smile. “Good luck, _mon ami_. If he passes through again, I’ll stall him as long as possible. You know the key, it knows you. It will sense you’re not the current wielder. It moves cars around. Bends space. You will find him before he gets to the Phantom Car.”

“I hope so,” Thomas murmurs. “If I don’t, I’ll have to do something I will regret.”

* * *

The next car that Alex goes into is brightly lit, shadows banished from every corner of it. Sitting at a table in the center, shoulders tense, is Laurens. Alex is about to step forward when Laurens stands up abruptly and screams, in a language so old and archaic that Alex almost stumbles back.

Throwing his arms out, Laurens makes the chairs at the table fly out, smashing into the booths. As he does so, his wings flare out, bits of silver glinting in amongst the grey feathers, and the black almost sucking away at the light.

Alex swallows, unsure of what to say, before Laurens is turning, making furious eye contact with him.

But it falls away as he sees that it’s Alex, and his shoulders drop from their previous tension, wings folding behind his back.

“Oh. It’s you.” His voice is suddenly monotonous, and he looks around, brow furrowing. “And where’s Thomas? He’s normally hovering like a mother hen.”

Alex shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “I… I ditched him. I thought that he wasn’t who all of you said he was but-”

“He’s a dick.” Laurens’ mouth quirks in a smile, “and you’ve finally realised.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

Laurens shrugs, “It’s not your fault. You were under his spell, with his charms and this train. It’s the same with Hercules.”

“Hercules?”

“Yeah. You noticed how out of it he was, didn’t you?”

Alex nodded slowly. He’d always seemed drunk,  even without drinking anything.

“It’s because Laf’s an incubus. It’s how they stay alive, by making someone fall wholeheartedly in love with them, then feeding off their victim’s life energy.”

Alex’s mouth drops open, and he represses a shudder.

“Herc _did_ truly love him, though. Before. Then Laf brought him on the train, and Herc was… changed. As much as you were. Laf doesn’t know how to organically fall in love. I tried to help, but… they wouldn’t let me close enough.”

There’s a pause, and Alex fidgets, before walking forward, towards the other end of the car.

“Well, I’d better get going. He’ll be looking for me after all and-”

“One question before you go, then. What are you planning to do? You can’t get off this train by yourself, after all.”

Alex shakes his head. “Maybe later, but… right now I’m heading to James’ car. There’s something - or was something - between him and Thomas. Eliza told me to talk to him… And… he doesn’t deserve to just be trapped in there forever.”

Laurens’ expression changes as Alex speaks, the smile that had been forming drops away. And as Alex meets his gaze, a cold chill runs down his spine.

“You shouldn’t do that, Alex.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t go see James. It won’t end well. For anyone.”

Alex steps backwards faster now, but Laurens catches his arm, eyes intent on his.

“Trust me, Alex. I won’t stop you, but everything that happens from now on is going to be in your hands.”

He gives a wry smile as he extracts himself. “Isn’t it already?”

* * *

Thomas tears through the train with reckless abandon, searching for the familiar lime-green hoodie and waves of black hair. “Where _are_ you,” He hisses, and slams André back into a wall when he tries to reach out at him.

Speeds through to the next car, where Theodosia snickers and spits at his feet. Continues through five more cars either empty or crowded.

He lands next to Laurens, who rolls his eyes and wiggles his fingers at Thomas in a mocking salute before vanishing in a flash of light and a whisper of, “I won’t be part of this.”

The next car is Dolley’s, and Thomas almost moves on before he remembers something. “You gave him the amulet,” He says, an unspoken “ _his amulet”_ in his voice. Doesn’t specify who, or what amulet. She knows.

“Of course I did,” She says, smirking. She hefts her mace, rests it on her shoulder. “It’s him against you in a game of war. Everything is up to chance at this point, but he’s gotten lucky enough that I’ll place my bets on him winning.”

“He’s not the one losing,” Thomas admits. He shifts on his feet, eyes the exit. “But the thing is, he’s playing chess and I’m playing checkers. I’ve reached the end of the board without calling checkmate. His pieces are in position to take my king, but now? I have five queens.”

* * *

Alex recognizes the next car he walks into, and he’s not sure whether to be relieved or afraid.

The Baron is lying on his side, one of the boys nuzzling into his chest. He has one hand stroking through the boy’s hair, while the other is feeding another slices of strawberries.

He looks up as Alex enters, and grins, teeth glinting in the light of the chandelier.

“Ah, Alex! How glad I am see you, it feels like forever, no?”

He laughs nervously, watching the the boy lick away the red stains of juice at the corners of his lips, looking at the Baron with pure adoration.

“Yeah, it sure does.”

The Baron beckons Alex closer, and as he does his eyes open wide, mouth falling open in exaggerated shock.

“And you’re still wearing that hoodie? Has Thomas not been looking after you?”

 _He has_ , Alex thinks, but remembers the loud colours of Thomas’ outfit and shudders.

But the Baron just laughs, and shoos the boy off the couch as he sits up.

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t trust Thomas to dress me either. But let’s see, I’ve got to have something that fits you.” He waves towards one of the boys and indicates a wardrobe pushed up against one of the walls.

“Ben, be a darling and look in there for something that might fit Alex here will you?” He pats the space beside him, looking at Alex.

“Now you come over here, and we’ll have a nice little chat, yes?”

Alex sits gingerly on the couch, and the Baron hums for a second looking him over.

“What a time it has been. I hear that Thomas is looking all over the train for you. What have you done to make him so angry?”

Alex hesitates for a moment before speaking, tense and ready to run to the exit.

“I stole the key to the Phantom Car, and I’m trying to go see James.”

“Ah. So you’ve broken free of his charms.” The Baron nods, and Alex relaxes a little. It doesn’t seem like the Baron wants to stop him. “But why would you want to see our friend James?”

Alex launches into the explanation, same as the one he’d given to Laurens, with the Baron humming and nodding.

He finds that he’s soon just ranting about Thomas when the Baron shushes him, and picks up a strawberry.

“You must be hungry no? And parched from all that talking. Here-” He’s about to offer it to Alex when he flinches away.

Immediately the air of the car goes still, and the Baron’s expression turns to concern.

“Alex, what is it? Something I said?”

He shakes his head violently, “No no, it’s just. Not strawberries. Please.”

The Baron’s eyes soften and he puts the fruit down, before picking up a platter of crackers and cheese.

“Is this alright then?”

Alex nods, and picks up one of them, shoving it into his mouth before talking again.

This time, instead of the odd, soaring feeling in his stomach, he just feels content, and full, even after only a few crackers.

He laughs when he sees Ben returning from the wardrobe, staggering under a veritable mountain of clothes.

Von Steuben sighs, but there’s fondness in his eyes. “Ben, _mon amour_ , such an overachiever. Alex won’t need that many clothes.”

Then was a blur of throwing on clothes, throwing them into a pile of quickly growing rejects, and another, smaller, of possibilities.

Eventually, he ends up with a deep green trenchcoat, that the Baron _says_ brings out his eyes, but Alex doesn’t believe him. It’s thrown over a grey t shirt and skinny jeans. He’s fairly sure that the Baron peaked when he wasn’t meant to, but he finds that he doesn’t really mind.

Finally, it’s all over, and he as he stands to leave, the Baron stops him.

“I will try and delay Thomas for you, but you must hurry. I’m afraid I’ve taken away much of your time.” He has the decency to look at least a little guilty before continuing. “But you look beautiful, so really you should thank me.”

Alex laughs, before waving a goodbye and exiting.

* * *

The door has barely closed behind the flash of green before the door on the opposing end slams open. “Baron,” Thomas greets him. “Have you seen Alex?”

“Alex who?” The Baron asks innocently.

Thomas side-eyes the pile of Alex-sized clothes still resting on the futon. “Uh-huh.”

“Look, Thomas, your boy and I had a little bit of a bonding moment, and I’m really not comfortable disclosing when I saw him.”

“But you did see him,” Thomas persists, eye twitching a little.

“Yes,” the Baron agrees.

Thomas huffs in exasperation and tries to continue through the car.

There’s a burst of wind in his face and he’s thrown back into the door he entered from, coughing from the oxygen being suddenly and forcibly removed from his body. “What the _fuck_ ,” He rasps as the Baron smirks at him, casually pinning his shoulders to the wall. “You can _move?_ What the fuck?”

The Baron bursts out laughing, loosening his hold enough for Thomas to flip their positions, pinning him to the wall with an arm at his neck. Thomas is still frowning, confused. “All those times you asked me to pass you a plate. You could’ve gotten it for yourself? What the fuck?”

“Careful, Thomas,” the Baron chuckles. “I may not need to breath, but a crushed esophagus is not a fun experience.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you,” Thomas mumbles.

“Are you really so shocked that I’m fast? Thomas, I am a _vampire_.”

“Yes, I realized,” Thomas says. “Your point?”

The Baron blinks at him. “We’re generally fast.”

“I thought you were the exception.”

“Come now, you don’t truly think so low of me, do you?”

Thomas just stares. “No, not really, I just thought you had others do the manual work for you.”

“Yes, I do. But that doesn’t mean I lose my speed. See, it takes a lot of stamina to keep up with five young men.”

Thomas groans and releases him, resting his head in his hands.

“Too much?” The Baron asks, amused.

“Too much,” Thomas agrees.

“Now, if _that’s_ too much, the story about my adventures in Cuba will be _entirely_ too much for you. But I’m going to tell you anyway. Sit sit. Don’t even think of leaving, you have to hear this. Now I was walking down the streets when a young woman approached me, and you wouldn’t _believe_ what she said -”

* * *

The next car hits him in the face with an alcoholic stench and Alex wrinkles his nose, bringing up one arm to cover his face.

Edging through the crowd gingerly, his eyes widen as he realises that some of the creatures in the car are being physically pushed away from him.

Looking down, he catches sight of the amulet hanging on his chest, and smiles.

“Thanks, Dolley,” He murmurs as he slides his way through the crowd.

He’s beginning to think that he can actually get past everyone without actually having to interact with people, before a hand lands on his shoulder, turning him around.

“Hey!” Hale grins at him, and he groans internally, before plastering a smile on his face.

“Hey Hale.”

“Wow, you’ve sure changed haven’t you. Where’d you get the jacket?”

Alex shrugs, “Well, y’know, I’ve just been around, picked up a few things. The Baron’s really helpful.”

Hale nods thoughtfully, and looks down at himself, before his face brightens. “Oh hey! You look even nicer now. I bet GWash would be really glad to see yo-”

“Ah,” Alex holds up a hand, “I’m going to have to stop you there Hale. I’m kind of in a hurry to get somewhere right now, but, if you let me do this, then I’ll come back.”

Hale opens his mouth before shutting it again, seemingly thinking over this offer intently before holding out one hand.

“Shake on it?”

“Shake on it.” Alex affirms, crossing his fingers behind his back as they shake once, twice firmly.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna get going. See you later, yeah?” He feels only the slightest amount of guilt as he waves goodbye, before sliding the door open and hopping into the next car.

He’s practically giddy as he pulls the next one open. Nothing has gone wrong for him so far, so how could it now?

His eyes widen as he sees Thomas, and as they make eye contact, he looks absolutely livid.

He starts walking quickly towards him, and just as Alex slams the door closed, he hears, “ALEX, DON’T YOU DARE CLOSE THAT DO-”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he leans his head against it.

What do they say about knocking on wood?

* * *

“- and then she said there were -”

Thomas is about to interrupt the Baron when someone else does it for him. The door at the other end opens wide and they both look up, startled, to see -

Thomas sprints for the door, fire erupting in his eyes.

Alex visibly gulps before shutting the door quickly, and Thomas speeds up. “ALEX, DON’T YOU DARE CLOSE THAT DOOR!”

It slams shut just as Thomas reaches it. He shoves it open, and groans when it reveals nothing.

“The key’s still messing with the cars,” the Baron says, amused. “The moment the door shut, the insides of the car switched with another.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Thomas snaps. “Goodbye, Baron. I need to leave.”

“Of course,” the Baron says. “And good luck to you both.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and exits the car.

* * *

Alex cracks open the door again, peeking through. He’s pretty sure that the car will change, but he isn’t entirely certain. Ready to slam it shut again, he breathes a sigh of relief as he sees another dark, empty car.

Sliding the door open slowly, he steps inside. It’s cold and silent, but for a soft sing-songy murmuring from a figure hunched over in the center of the car.

As he steps gingerly closer, Theo spin around to see him, eyes wide and hands tapping an obsessive rhythm on the ground.

“Alex, Alex back again. Alex, no longer Thomas’ friend.” Humming a breathless tune, she beckons him closer with bony fingers. “You tricked the trickster, stole the key. You must go now, hurry, _flee_.” She leans closer on the last word, and Alex flinches back from her intense, piercing gaze.

“That amulet may protect you now, but soon enough you’ll have to bow.” Quick fingers grab at the knotted silver metal, and she runs the pads of her thumbs over it.

But then he’s being pushed away, as she curls backwards, looking up at him through the matted locks of her hair.

“Running, running forevermore, because it’s not you that he adores.” Her voice rises to a shrieking laugh on the last word and he blanches, backing away to the other end of the car.

“Do it, don’t do it, _do it_ , _DON’T DO IT-_ ”

He shudders as he slams the car door closed, feeling a pang of sympathy as her crazed mumblings are cut off.

“What _happened_ to her?”

* * *

“Has Alex been through?” Thomas demands, landing on the opposite end of the car as Burr.

“No,” Burr responds, standing and moving away from the human he was comforting, blurring a little as he does. “Did you lose him?”

“He ran,” Thomas spits. “If you don’t have any more information, I need to go.”

“Wait,” Burr says, stepping forward, and Thomas stops.

He turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow. “Go on?”

“Face your fear,” Burr says, and crosses the rest of the distance between them quickly, taking advantage of Thomas’ surprise. He blurs again, shifting into focus. “You keep hiding, but you can’t run from me,” James - Burr - says. “We were friends, Thomas. I thought you cared.”

“I do,” Thomas whispers, before he shakes himself. _It’s just Burr. It’s just Burr. It isn’t him._

“Then why do you keep me in a cage?” James demands, voice amplifying and resonating through the space. “Why did you lock me away and throw away the key?”

“Didn’t throw it away,” Thomas says. “He _stole it_.”

“He would be more welcome than _you_ ,” James says, and Thomas’ resolve crumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispers.

James backs up in surprise at the words, blurring once more, and Thomas becomes more confident at the visual evidence that it’s _Burr_ , _not James._

“But I’m not apologizing to you,” Thomas says, and advances. Burr drops the facade, gulps and steps back further. “Watch your back, Burr. If you ever, _ever_ try to use him against me again…” He lets the threat linger in the air for a moment before leaning forward and whispering, “I’ll make sure you’re left in solitude for the rest of your miserable existence, just a shapeless form with no purpose, never able to fully solidify. Alone with your thoughts, just one meaningless, torturous, living hell of your own.”

“It would be a relief,” Burr responds, glaring defiantly. “I would finally stop hurting everyone I come in contact with.”

Thomas snarls and knocks him over, stalking to the other end of the car. “I’ll be back,” he promises darkly, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t move.”

The door slams shut, and Burr lets himself curl into a ball in the middle of the floor. He takes a deep shuddering breath, and sobs.

* * *

Alex stumbles into the next car, and his eyes widen as he does. It’s the same car he’d started off in. Lafayette’s car. He’s about to turn and run back to the door when he stops short at the sight of Hercules blocking the exit.

Someone grips his hand, and he whips around again to see Lafayette.

Feeling guilt pool in his stomach at the betrayed look in the incubus’ eyes, he tries in vain to extract himself from their grip, but only winces as it grows tighter.

“Why would you do that, _mon cheri?_ ”

He tries to step back but Hercules cuts him off, hand gripping onto his shoulder.

“He cared for you, you know?”

Alex sneers, struggling to get free. “Yeah right, just like you care for poor, dear Hercules.”

Lafayette purses their lips, and an annoyed expression crosses their face. “What would you know about Hercules and I?”

“I know that you’re just _using him_. Like every other creature on this _fucking train uses humans!_ ”

Lafayette’s eyes are brimming with anger, and they raise one hand. Alex shuts his eyes, bracing himself for a cold, sharp sting… but nothing happens.

Lafayette makes a soft, shocked noise and Alex looks up to see that Hercules has released him, to hold their arm in a vice-like grip.

“No.”

And it’s perhaps the most coherent that Alex has ever heard the man, and the both of them gape.

“Alex is… right.” Hercules is struggling through the words, as if he’s coming out of a deep sleep.

“You and Thomas… what you’re doing isn’t right.”

“ _Ma poupée_ …?” Lafayette sounds small. They’re unsure, more unsure than Burr had been.

“Don’t call me that,” Hercules’ voice seems to be gaining strength, and it almost serves to make Lafayette shrink backwards, eyes wide and confused.

Pushing Lafayette’s hand off of Alex’s wrist, he claps Alex’s shoulder. Lafayette slinks away, like a wounded animal would to lick its wounds.

“Go. Thomas is coming, and trust me man, he ain’t happy.”

Alex nods, once, twice before stepping back and sprinting for the other end of the car.

“Please, please say that this is James’ car,” He mutters repetitively as he opens the door into the next car.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he steps inside, greeted by a cold, almost dead atmosphere. Casting his eyes around, he squints in the dim light.

Finally, he sees James, curled up in his usual seat in the corner, and he steps forward quickly, urgency in every vein of his body.

* * *

Thomas is searching around the area Alex had encountered Washington when he hears a whisper in his mind. It’s in an old language, something only a few beings besides himself would understand, much less be able to speak. “ _Your boy passed through. How you say… experienced a slight problem. He managed to enter the Phantom Car. I can’t follow, can’t do much._ ”

Thomas exhales sharply as the mental connection cuts off. “What did you get into now, Lafayette,” He mutters, and dematerializes.

He solidifies at Laf’s location, and has to consciously convince himself not to leave again immediately. “You said you were occupied,” He says, tone tight with anger as he looks towards the ceiling.

“I _am_ ,” Laf hisses, and ceases sucking and kissing at Hercules’ neck in order to stand, and get right in Thomas’ face. “Your _pet_ ruined the trance. _Ma poupée_ is back to where he was before I met him and I’m _trying to fix it_.” As if to emphasize Laf’s point, Hercules starts to yell and struggle against his bonds. Laf groans and scrubs at their face.

“Fuck,” Thomas mutters. “Which door did he exit from?”

Laf points, and Thomas sprints to it, yanking it open and running face first into familiar wards.

“You wouldn’t happen to recognize me, would you?” He murmurs, reaching out a finger hesitantly. The ward zaps him, and he yelps. “Okay. You recognize me but won’t let me in. That’s fine. Alright.” He cracks his knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Alex slides in the seat beside James, and winces when he realises just how cold everything is.

There’s silence for a moment as Alex waits for James to do… _something_ to acknowledge his presence.

Instead, he gives no sign that he’s noticed Alex, continuing to stare blankly out the window, soft breaths making puffy clouds against the glass.

“So… James, huh? Um, I know this is out of the blue but, would you mind telling me a bit about Thomas?”

Another silent pause. The only sign that James is in fact alive is the slow movement of blinking that occurs every few seconds.

But both of them start at a horrible screech of metal, as if something’s being torn away outside the car.

“What the fuck?”

* * *

Thomas doesn’t make a sound as he moves his outstretched palm slowly upwards, the clenching of his jaw the only sign of exertion. His eyes begin to glow black - the very thing a seeming contradiction of itself - and he chants, “ _Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine!_ ”

He peeks into a non-corporeal plane to check the state of the wards, smirking when one cracks. He closes his hand into a fist and _yanks_ , sending it crashing into the nether.

* * *

Now that James is kind of looking at him - well, in his general direction - Alex takes the chance.

“James. James, do you have any idea on how to get off this train?”

His head turns just slightly, and he looks at Alex with a disbelieving expression.

Alex takes a moment to think about his question, before laughing. And then cringing as the sound bounces back, echoing in his ears uncomfortably.

James flinches as well and Alex feels a pang of guilt.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, fuck-” He reaches out, taking James’ cold, prone hand, but he flinches away once more, practically throwing himself away from Alex.

“ _Fuck._ ” Alex whispers as another roar bounces from the walls of the near silent train car.

* * *

Thomas grits his teeth and slams his hands together, keeping a careful eye on the traps layering the second ward. “ _Airmidh mi air maponus, dia- na hogalachd! Gairmidh mi air sucellus, dia na time!_ ” He flips his palm quickly upside down, spotting a tear, and zeroes in on it. “ _Till an-dràsda obair uile gu bheilair a bhith deànta! Mar -_ ” He falters. Stripping away the first ward had allowed him to extend his senses inside the car - it had allowed him to feel what James is feeling.

And now, all he can feel is - _fear. An overwhelming sense of panic and dread, something happened that shouldn’t have and now everything has changed. It’s not safe, it’s not secure in here. I could be attacked, I could fall, I could -_

Thomas shudders as he breaks off the connection, and stares at the door blankly. He tenses, then throws his arms to the side, letting loose an outburst of energy, feeling his eyes start to burn brighter as he lets out a guttural scream.

* * *

Alex feels the impatience building steadily inside him and grits his teeth. James is _refusing_ to respond to anything, apart from with sarcastic breaths - seriously, how do you breathe sarcastically? - and side-eyeing him.

But now he at least knows not to touch him. He’d done it twice more, and James had grown increasingly distressed each time, so now they’re sitting with at least the entire chair between them, Alex perched awkwardly on the end of it.

He coughs, making James look sharply in his direction. Well, not sharply, but as sharp as he can manage, glassy eyes still not quite focussed on him.

“Do you want to tell me anything that might be helpful?” He’s lost all hope at this point, but as James slowly parts his mouth, he sits forward, adrenaline thrumming in his veins and eyes wide.

James takes in a shuddery breath, looks directly at Alex and says solemnly,

“I’m allergic to peanuts.”

* * *

The non-corporeal plane is not a peaceful place, contrary to popular (human) belief. But even so, the noise and _chaos_ Thomas is causing raises a fuss. Thomas Jefferson is normally a very, very composed demon - never loses control, never shows his full power. That he’s dropped every pretense and mask of calm, stopped with spells and resorted to raw power, well.

Even the brainless beings steer clear.

Another boom resonates through the plane as a ward fails, and Thomas grins, teeth glinting dangerously. He lifts his hand and drops it, breaking another two quickly. Backs up as he sees the next one, floats off of the not-train to survey it more carefully before simply sweeping his hand to the side with a quiet whisper of, “ _Abite_.”

The ward explodes.

* * *

The crashing sounds are getting louder now, and James is getting steadily more agitated. Alex can feel fear and panic rising in his throat and he stands, slamming his hands onto the table and practically screams in James’ face, throat raw with dread.

“You need to help me James, anything would be fine, _please I’m begging you, I don’t want to be here anymore -!”_

James was just shaking his head, drawing his knees up to his face and shaking as Alex keeps screaming, words bouncing around in echoes around the train car and lights flickering from bright to dark.

“ _James you can’t do this to me please, fuck please I’ll do anything, ANYTHING -”_

“Can you stop?”

Alex’s breath hitches in his throat at the wavery, almost-brought-to-tears tone in James’ voice.

“I’ll tell you about this train if you just _stop_.”

Alex almost answers but instead he just nods stiffly, gaze locked onto James, who’s still looking out the window.

The only thing they can hear is the faint clanging from outside before James looks up at him, the glassy texture over his eyes melting like morning frost on a window.

He takes a breath -

 _Bang_.

Alex’s eyes go wide as the vibrations reverberate through the car. He looks at the door. “Shit,” he says. James winces, before reaching out and laying a hand on the amulet.

 _Bang_.

“The train has an aura,” James says quietly, sensing Alex’s urgency. “It compels humans to let down their guards. It coaxes you into a haze, makes you want to give yourself - body, mind, and soul - to whatever being that brought you here. Thomas already owns your soul, so it had an easier time with you.”

He closes his eyes, and Alex feels the amulet grow hot against his chest.

“This will help you see through it, at what’s really being hidden.” He takes back his hand and takes a few deep breaths, before continuing.

 _Bang_.

“You devolved into a lovesick state faster than most. Part of it was that, but part of it was Thomas.” He hesitates, before ploughing on. “Thomas has… he’s mysterious and compelling, and he’s good at making people fall. Only rarely does he fall for someone in return. And once you’ve betrayed his trust…” James turns accusing eyes on Alex, who feels a pang of regret. “He will never show true emotion for you again.”

 _Bang_.

“I loved him,” James admits. “I still love him.” A pause. “He might’ve moved on, but I still love him.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers. “But, Burr. Burr turns into people you love, right?”

“Aaron?” James furrows his brow. “Yes. Why?”

“He turned into you, for Thomas,” Alex says in a rush.

James looks disbelieving, and pity floods into Alex.

“No, I’m telling the truth,” Alex insists. “And, speaking of which, Dolley. She asked me to tell you that she hasn’t abandoned you - she still cares for you.”

“Thank you,” James whispers, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “I miss her.”

“And I’m sorry to rush you, but… the exit?”

“Yes, it’s -” James stops short. He tenses, looking towards the door. “... he hasn’t hit it a fifth time.”

“What?”

“He was hitting in rhythm, it was evenly spaced -”

_Creeeeeaaaak._

Alex stands. James curls into a tighter ball, still staring at the door.

Silence.

Then the door begins to fall inwards, dropping to the ground with a loud _crash_.

Thomas is a silhouette in the bright light suddenly flooding the room, leaning on his cane. His toothy grin glints in the little bit of reflected light as he shifts forwards, tilting his hat up to lock eyes with Alex and purr, “What’d I miss?”

* * *

Alex forgets how to breathe at the sight of him, partly from fear, and partly from something else.

“Cat got your tongue?” Thomas swaggers into the car. “You didn’t really think the wards _I_ erected would keep me out, did you?”

Alex backs up slowly. “I thought they’d stall you longer. Clearly you’re not as powerful as I thought, if your wards are that weak.”

Thomas closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re trying my patience.”

“Thought that was already blown to pieces,” Alex says. He’s almost to the other door, he’s almost out of the car -

He hits something solid and whirls around to see a wall of rock there that was _definitely not there before_.

“You _betrayed my trust_ ,” Thomas snarls, and then he’s directly in Alex’s face, pinning him to the conjured rock. Alex squirms. “You took the liberties I gave you and spat in my _face_! You _ran_ from me, you ungrateful little rat! You stole the _one thing I wouldn’t have given you_! The contract states that the moment you get off the train, I would be bound to give you _whatever_ _you_ _want,_ as long as it doesn’t pertain to the train!”

“Yeah, but that’s _when I get off the train_ ,” Alex hisses. “You were never going to let me off! _Je parle français_ , Thomas! _Je comprenais parfaitement Lafayette!_ ”

Thomas’ face goes white. “I was humoring them,” He says, and Alex is startled by the honesty in his voice. “I would _never_ let that happen.”

“Didn’t sound humoring when they called me and Hercules _toys_ ,” Alex growls. “You treat us like pets, it’s no wonder you had to lock James away, he would have LEFT YOU IF YOU HADN’T!”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT JAMES,” Thomas roars, instantly furious. “YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WHO HE IS TO ME, NOTHING ABOUT -”

There’s a whimpering noise from behind him.

Thomas freezes, and looks over his shoulder. When he sees James trying to make himself even smaller - if possible - he seems to lose the anger that had carried him to this point.

Alex takes the opportunity to try and wriggle out of his grasp, but Thomas’ grip is still tight on his arm. But this does make his attention snap back to him, eyes narrowing.

“You’ve lost the game Alex.” He sneers, breath hot against his face.

Alex leans close, smirking. “No, I just flipped the fucking board.”

Thomas’ expression gets dangerously angry, and his eyes flash with a light that makes Alex’s heart jump.

“Oh, you’ve done it now -”

“Wait!”

They both stop short at the soft exclamation and look towards James, who’s stood up on shaky legs.

“Don’t hurt him.”

Alex can’t see Thomas’ face, but his voice is soft, and filled with such care that it makes him want to cry. “Jemmy?”

He walks forward steadily, eyes focussed on Thomas’.

“I said don’t hurt him.”

The tight grip on Alex’s arm slackens, but he doesn’t dare to move, breath tight in his throat.

Thomas’ voice is filled with confusion, and for a second, Alex envisions a kicked puppy. “What?”

“You can’t just bulldoze over people just because you don’t like what they do.” His voice is gaining volume, and Thomas lets Alex’s arm go entirely, turning to face James.

“I…”

“Alex is right,” James whispers, and crosses his arms defensively. “You may have treated me like an equal, but you don’t do that to anyone else. Humans are beneath you, right?”

“James, you know I didn’t -” Thomas tries to interject, voice pleading, but he’s cut off again.

“- mean it?” James stares, painfully accusatory. “But you said it. So you thought it at some point, and you’re not really proving me wrong.”

“I just wanted -” He extends a hand, but James ignores it, continuing to stare straight up at him.

“To help? Your definition of help is different from everyone else’s, Thomas.”

“You were -” He sounds as if this is dredging up things from the past that he didn’t want to think about.

“Don’t assume you know exactly what I’m thinking at all times, because you don’t now, and you didn’t then.” James’ voice grows in volume, and his face contorts into a slightly warped livid expression, as if he hasn’t had any use for those muscles in a long time.

“Jemmy, please -” Thomas is all out begging for him to stop now, and Alex thinks that if he wasn’t so proud he’d be on his knees.

“Don’t call me that.” James’ voice is cold and Thomas flinches.

“I’m sorry, I only wanted to help -”

“Again, your help isn’t the same as -”

“I’m trying to apologize -”

“I JUST WANTED IT ALL TO STOP, THOMAS! WHY COULDN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?” He shouts this last line, fists clenches and tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He begins curling back in on himself, and doesn’t move as Thomas takes hesitant steps forward. Instead, it’s as if they both let out a breath as Thomas wraps his arms gingerly around James’ still shaking form.

They speak softly for a moment, and Alex doesn’t try to eavesdrop, knowing a private moment when he sees one.

But then Thomas is stepping back, and James is nodding, eyes full of relief and the soft touch of love.

Thomas reaches out one shaking hand to cup his face, and slowly presses their lips together, chaste and sweet. They’re both visibly crying as he gently brushes James’ hair away and kisses his forehead. “I love you, Jemmy,” Thomas whispers quietly. He takes a shaky breath against James’ skin, repeating softly, “I love you.”

It’s a frozen moment, and Alex doesn’t feel as if he can breathe, before James disappears in a rush of stardust and wind chimes, the first hesitant call of a bird before the sun rises and a ray of that sun through a window.

Thomas just stands there for a moment, hand still hovering, before a choked sob escapes, sounding as if it contains all the sadness in the world.

“Thomas,” Alex whispers, stepping forward. Thomas remains motionless, eyes fixed on the place James just was. “... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” Thomas repeats, voice flat and dead. “You’re _sorry_.”

The mournful moment is broken, giving way to a tense air. Alex swallows and holds his silence, watching Thomas carefully. He does _not_ sound happy.

“I gave you liberties most others wouldn’t even _consider_ bestowing upon humans. I was _kind_ to you. Hell, I _cared_ about you, as much as a being like me is able. But, Alex, you were right. I never _was_ going to let you off the train, but you would’ve lived comfortably for the rest of your life, in constant bliss, able to do as you’d like. Now that you’ve shown just how much you can’t be trusted…”

“James -” Alex starts, scared, and grasping for straws.

“JAMES IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!” Thomas roars, and Alex winces as a wave of energy rolls off him, avoiding Alex but crashing into the wall of rock and shattering it into tiny pebbles.

Thomas breathes heavily, shoulders heaving. “He’s gone,” He whispers, and stalks outside, waving a hand to force Alex to follow.

Burr looks up as they enter his car, and Thomas pushes Alex forward. Burr shimmers into the form of Alex’s mother and catches him in slight arms. “ _Sleep_ ,” Thomas says, but it sounds strange - it’s a full sound, and seems to echo all over the room.

Alex feels exhausted, and with each blink the darkness in between seems to stretch out longer.

Burr carefully maneuvers them into a booth, carding thin fingers through his hair as he hums the beginnings of his mother's song.

 _There’s something wrong,_ Alex thinks. _Something…_ Theodosia’s voice echoes through his mind.

_Your spell grows weak, he’ll break it soon…_

“Sleep,” Thomas repeats. Alex would be happy to do nothing but listen to that voice for the rest of his life, sitting in darkness. It overwhelms his senses, murmuring lullabyes and flowing warm through his veins.

_He’ll return to you when you whisper the tune._

His eyes feel too heavy to open, but he hears Thomas’ low, quiet singing thread through his ears as he drifts into sleep. _“No matter how hard, how far you fall, I’ll be here to catch you…”_

The last thing Alex remembers thinking is, _I love you, Thomas._ And the worst part is…

He means it.

 

_It keeps going on going on going on_

_It never ends_

_It never ends_

_So heed my warning boy_

_Don’t trust the air you breathe_

_Oh heed my warning boy_

_Don’t trust the ground under your feet_

_Don’t trust the people you see_

_Their smiles are too wide, too carefree._

  
Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... but not really, bc part two is next!
> 
> react in the comments because we thrive off those p l e a s e
> 
> you all make our day when we see the "you got a comment" email and you're all so nice its gr8
> 
> also: warning for possible hiatus, because we're still writing part two and we gotta make sure stuff flows. it likely won't be long, no longer than two weeks past when we would've normally updated.... if that at all. but stay tuned, pls, we're sorry for the possible delay (school is killing me -dori)


	6. Part Two, Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taking flight, and a creature filled with fright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part two! WARNING: It does get very much darker, with implied 'slavery' and unwanted sexual acts, everything else should be in the tags. This fic is probably going to be over 60k by the time we finish, it's already 60k n o w so......Enjoy!

_Cause you’re on the late night train_

_The night time train_

_And no one ever comes home_

_From the late night train_

_The night time train_

_Where you can’t even see the stars_

 

* * *

 

Alex wakes up, opens his eyes, then immediately squeezes them shut, groaning. The lights are firmly imprinted in his mind and he rubs his eyes, trying to get them to disappear from behind his eyelids. _What happened?_

He rolls to his side, and promptly tumbles off whatever he had been lying on. “Ow!” He yelps, and squints at the hard metal his knee had collided with. “The fuck?”

The thing he was lying on earlier appears to be overstuffed leather. He’d hit his leg on the pole of a table coming down, so apparently he was sleeping in a booth… where? A diner? A train?

 _The train_. Memories flood back to him, a razor sharp smile and a deal he’d learned to regret. Thomas. James.

Burr holding him with his mother’s arms, and Thomas whispering “ _sleep_ ”.

“Okay,” Alex whispers. “He’s angry.” He’s honestly surprised he isn’t dead.

“That’s an understatement.”

Alex freezes, and watches with his heart in his chest as a pair of legs appears at the end of the booth. “The fuck are you doing under there?”

“I fell,” He grumbles, and scoots out, figuring the table wouldn’t provide him much protection anyway. The legs move to give him some space.

“Do you remember everything?” The legs ask he emerges, and the woman connected to them offers him a hand. “Angelica. Schuyler.”

Alex has to think a little before he places the name - “Are you related to Eliza?”

Angelica’s expression darkens. “My sister.”

“Oh,” Alex says. He hesitates, then mumbles, “Thomas is mad at me, isn’t he.”

“Yes,” Angelica says, and there’s definitely a nervous energy in her voice. “But I’m not here on his behalf, I’m here to break you out.”

“Out of the train?”

“Yes,” Angelica repeats, more annoyed now. “The exit Eliza mentioned to you, I found it, and we need to leave now, before he notices that you’re awake.”

She grabs his arm, and he winces at the tight, anxious grip of her hand, before she’s pulling him out of the car.

“How come he hasn’t come to find me yet?” He asks, more focussed on not tripping over his own feet as she moved quickly through the cars.

He notes how she cups one hand over a daisy chain woven delicately into her hair, making sure that the flowers aren’t damaged by anything.

Alex feels like they’ve been running for far too long when she skids to a stop, sending him tumbling onto the floor as she lets go of his arm.

There’s a hunger in her eyes as she stares at a closed door. It shakes as the train moves, and there are runes carved into the silver surrounding it. There’s old magic practically radiating off it, and Alex shudders. Angelica slips a hand into her pocket and seems to grab something, before pulling out her hand and looking back at him.

“So. Are you ready?”

He opens his mouth to say yes, but then bites it back. Who knows where they’d stop. What would he do?

Thinking back to what Laurens had said, he chews at his lip. Had it been a week since he’d left New York? He didn’t think so. What if he ended up in some random place where he didn’t even speak the language?

Angelica didn’t have to worry, she was a nymph. All she needed was… he didn’t even know. Nature?

“Alex, we don’t have all day. We have to leave. Now!” She holds out a hand, urgency in every fibre of her body.

He takes in a breath.

“No.”

She falters, brow furrowing. “What?”

“I’m not leaving.” He folds his arms over his chest and grasps at his sleeves. _What am I doing?_

There’s silence for a moment before she steps forward, anger filling her gaze.

“You’d rather stay here?” Her tone is disbelieving and he shrinks back, unable to answer.

“Do you know how much work went into this? How much planning?” Her voice rises with every word, and her hands are shaking at her sides. There’s something - she’s sacrificing something for him, he can tell. He allows a brief moment of regret. “And yet as soon as she met you, Eliza just knew that we had to save you. Why you? Out of anyone else, _why you_?” Her volume suddenly drops, but it's almost worse.

“She sacrificed herself helping you. Did you know that? This-” She reaches down, grabbing a jar from the small pouch hanging from her shoulder.

“This is all I have left of her!” She shakes it in Alex’s face, the water sloshing around inside. Eliza’s source, likely. It makes guilt pool in his stomach as he thinks back on Eliza’s terrified expression, and the smile Thomas had given him after their conversation.

“I-I’m sorry-” He stutters, and she sneers.

“Whatever. You can stay here if you want, but you’ll be trapped here forever. Wouldn’t it be so much better out here than being kept as a _pet_?” Her tone is wheedling, and he shakes his head violently, as he steps up to meet her.

“No. No it wouldn’t! What do I have out there! Nothing! At least _someone_ cares about me here!”

She gives him a pitying look. “Really? If you’re talking about Thomas, I think you’re sorely mistaken.”

Turning, she pulls out a familiar metal card, and the door hums in recognition, before creaking open.

Wind floods into the car, grasping at his hair and clothes, and he gasps, shielding himself with arms over his face.

Angelica throws her arms open, a blissful expression appearing as she turns and shouts, “PEGGY! IT’S TIME!”

Two figures appear in the entrance to the car, one of them running to hug Angelica tightly, a yellow, almost petal-like dress fluttering in the strong winds. The other runs up to grab Alex’s arm, pulling him back, further away from the sisters.

“Don’t even think about it, _mon cher_.” Lafayette says in a tone that brooks no argument.

Angelica looks over her shoulder at him, something uncertain flickering in her eyes.

But then time seems to almost stop as he breaks free of Lafayette’s grip to step forward. Angelica’s eyes widen and his hand extends forward to grab hers.

Lafayette curses in French behind him, before he snatches the cool metal card. Angelica’s eyes are still fixed on his, wide with astonished outrage.

But then they’re gone, pulled out into a world that Alex doesn’t feel a part of anymore.

 

* * *

 

“And then the dwarf said, ‘you can’t take that duck!’”

The crowd bursts into laughter, and Peggy grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Funny, yeah?”

Even Thomas feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, though he represses it. He smiles at her wryly, and only just remembers to check whether Alex has woken. Lafayette grabs his wrist before he can. “You check every five minutes, _mon ami._ You need to, what is the phrase… light up.”

“Lighten up,” Thomas corrects. “You’re fluent in English, Laf, you know the phrase.”

Lafayette rolls their eyes and releases him. “Relax, Thomas. Nothing will happen to Alex.”

“I’m less concerned about that, more concerned about Alex happening to someone else.”

“You have a point,” Lafayette mutters, and reaches down, tilting Hercules’ head to face them from where he’s kneeling at Lafayette’s feet. His eyes are glazed over once more, staring at Lafayette blankly. They curl their lips into a smirk. “Though, you’re back now, aren’t you, _minou?_ ”

Hercules doesn’t respond, instead nuzzling his face into Lafayette’s palm.

“Excuse us,” Laf murmurs, and skips away, Hercules in tow.

Thomas tries to relax, tries to listen to Peggy’s jokes. But he can’t find any more humor in the swordfish rising from the lake than he can Alex’s betrayal.

He gives up restraint two elf puns later, and checks. His blood runs cold as he realizes - Alex isn’t where he left him.

“PEGGY! IT’S TIME!” The voice echoes through the car, creating a murmur among the creatures there. Then everything goes silent.

Peggy immediately backs up, sheepish. “Gotta blast!”

“That was Angelica,” Thomas growls, and is in her face in an instant. “I have your sources, you can’t -!”

“No you don’t,” Peggy says, and pushes his shoulder. A vine wraps around his ankles, pulling him away from her, and she winks. “And yes I can.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses, and flicks his free hand, the other wrapped in vines. The plant is forced off his body, but as he turns to confront her…

She’s gone.

 

* * *

 

The door swings shut again, the heavy sound of it echoing through the room. Alex’s hand is still outstretched, holding the key, and Lafayette is silent behind him, before asking in a quietly inquisitive voice.

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

Looking back, he shrugged, an empty feeling growing in his chest. “I don’t have anything left for me out there.”

There’s another beat of silence before the entrance to the car slams open, and Thomas appears, looking as if he’s run the length of the train.

He curses as he sees that Lafayette and Alex are the only ones there. Seeing the grasp that Laf has on him, and his outstretched arm, Thomas scowls.

“Of course you’re here. Were you going to leave as well?”

“No,” Alex interjects quickly, at the same time Lafayette says, “ _Oui,_ he was.”

“No I wasn’t,” Alex snaps. He tosses the card to Thomas as he opens his mouth, likely to yell. Thomas snatches it out of the air, then closes his jaw with a click of his teeth as he sees what it is.

“Let him go,” He tells Lafayette, and flashes the card at them. “They got out using this. He took it from her under the guise of following them out.”

Lafayette releases him. “I’m going to leave,” they tell Thomas. “I was in the middle of something.”

“Was that something anything to do with seducing an unfortunate human and draining their life force?” Alex says bitingly.

Lafayette whirls on him, furious, but Thomas holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with him,” He promises.

“You’ll _deal with me_ ,” Alex mocks.

More accurately tries to mock, because Thomas waves his hand halfway through the statement and hisses, “You will be silent unless spoken to,” and Alex’s jaw snaps shut against his will.

“Mmph,” he tries, but his lips remain glued together.

“Your voice is infuriating,” Thomas says, disgust in his voice. “It’s a fucking miracle when you’re speechless.”

Alex swallows, his heart sinking a little. _This is what James meant,_ he thinks, _when he said Thomas will never treat me the same. Isn’t it?_

“Come here, sugar,” Thomas says. _What happened to darlin’?_ Alex wonders, but complies. Thomas grips his chin too hard, and Alex winces. “Don’t ever speak to Lafayette like that again. This is your only warning.”

“Mm,” Alex tries to protest, but scowls when he remembers he can’t.

“What was that?” Thomas asks, feigning ignorance. “You agree to never talk back to anyone? How sweet of you.”

“Mm!” Alex says, louder this time, annoyance and slight panic making his eyes wide.

He thinks for a second that Thomas is going to leave the spell on him, and take away his speech for an indeterminate amount of time. But then Thomas is waving his hand lazily, and the pressure on Alex’s mouth dissipates.

He gasps for a moment, and is about to ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, when Thomas gives him a warning look. Alex keeps his mouth shut, eyeing him mutinously.

Thomas sneers and runs a hand through Alex’s hair. “Good boy,” he says, tone full of condescension, much like how you'd speak to a particularly unwieldy dog. It’s all Alex can do not to punch him in the face. Instead, he stews in silence as Thomas saunters out of the train car, obviously expecting him to follow.

He shuffles his feet for a moment before quickly trailing behind him into the next car.

They go through a few mostly empty cars before entering a crowded one, with no booths, where there seems to be a stage set up. There’s a dwarf there, and he’s twisting his hand into a vulgar sign, smirking.

Alex looks away quickly and feels the urge to hide his face in Thomas’ chest, but Thomas has already begun walking through the crowd, heading purposefully to two nicer looking chairs at the edge of the mass of people. Alex hurries after him, ducking his head to avoid the creatures’ sharp gazes.

“Sit,” Thomas says as he does the same. Alex takes a step towards the other chair, but Thomas stops him, tsking. “Chairs are not for naughty boys, sugar. It's the floor for you.”

Alex opens his mouth to protest again, but snaps it shut again as Thomas raises his hand threateningly.

Alex moves to the other side of Thomas’ chair and kneels carefully on the carpet, settling back onto his calves.

Thomas smiles, reaching over. He tangles his fingers in Alex’s hair, and uses the leverage to yank him over until his head is resting in his lap. “Good boy,” Thomas purrs again, carding through Alex’s hair.

Alex breathes through his nose and closes his eyes. _This is fine. It’s fine. I pissed him off. I deserve it._

“- finally tamed his pet,” Alex hears, and clenches his jaw.

“Jefferson’s bitch learned its place,” Another laughs.

“Wonder if Jefferson’d let us have a go at him. He’s so pretty…”

“Shut up idiot, he’ll hear you!”

Thomas chuckles and relaxes further back in his chair. “None of you are subtle,” He says, projecting his voice slightly, so the creatures around him - the ones talking - still. “For the record, he’s mine. Any of you touch him, you die.” There’s an audible gulp from someone in the crowd. Thomas smirks, hand tightening in Alex’s hair, sending fire-hot pain through his scalp. Alex whimpers slightly, and Thomas releases his hair. “Well? Carry on.” Murmurs rush through the mass, none of them discernible.

“They’re jealous,” Thomas whispers, and tilts Alex’s head to face him. “Jealous of me for owning you, you and your pretty face.”

Alex swallows, lowering his gaze.

“You said something to me, right before you ran off and forsook me… what was it - ah, yes. ’You can have me, any way you want me’.”

Alex feels the blood drain from his face, something he’d only ever read in books and never really understood what it actually _meant_ . His heart drops to the pit of his stomach and there’s ice in his veins, his heart desperately pumping it through. _No._

Thomas snickers at whatever thunderstruck expression is adorning Alex’s face. “I think I like you on your knees, sweetheart. You’d better get used to the feeling.”

“You’re a -“

“You had the opportunity to leave but didn’t. I know what James told you. You knew what would happen if you stayed, but you still did. Who’s the sick one of the two of us now, hm?”

“Fuck you,” Alex spits. “Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that, got this bowtie.” Thomas laughs again at Alex’s confusion. “You haven’t pieced it together by now? C’mon sugar, you’re smarter than that.”

“You’re a demon,” Alex guesses. “No wonder you and Laurens hate each other so much.”

“Really, a demon? You think so low of me,” Thomas says. _He’s bluffing_ , Alex thinks, but lets him continue. “I may have made you a soul deal, but there are many beings who do that.”

 _Soul. James said body, mind, and soul,_ Alex thinks. _He has my soul. Some control over my body. I can’t let him take my mind._

The dwarf on stage makes another vulgar joke, implying something about humans that Alex doesn’t want to think too hard about. Thomas makes a face in distaste. “Peggy was better,” He mutters. “Up. We’re leaving.”

“So soon?” Alex quips, and gets a strand of his hair tugged in response.

“Mouthy,” Thomas reprimands. Alex staggers to his feet when Thomas stands, dislodging Alex’s head from where it rested on his thigh.

They move onto the next car, Alex following behind Thomas once more.

This car is dark, and Alex shivers as he looks around, feeling as if this is somewhere that he shouldn’t be left alone.

It sends a chill down his back and he turns to hide his face in Thomas’ chest when Thomas pushes him away - further into the darkness - tutting.

“Nuh-uh - you've been naughty, puppy, and i have to clean up your mess. I'm sure you can handle being in a car alone. Just think of it as being in time-out." Thomas pats his cheek before disappearing between one blink and the next.

Alex reels, looking around desperately into the darkness. As his eyes skitter over the strange shapes and shadows, he backs up, closer to the door.

 _If I get to the door, nothing can get behind me._ He thinks, desperately clutching onto a small sliver of hope.

But it dissipates when he bumps into a cold, squishy, surface behind him. Jumping away, he let out a small scream, backing up quickly.

It’s a shadow-like figure that wavers and jitters in shape, somewhat like Burr. However, as he watches with terrified eyes, it began to look like _him_. Shaping itself together like a child squashing clay, it morphs into him, a wide grin spreading across its face and all of the colours of his clothes bleeding into it’s form.

He’s silent as it steps unsteadily towards him, wide, unsettling grin still on its face.

“Alex, Alex, Alex, not been a good boy.” It croons, in a voice that sounds like a combination of many. He falls back into the reaching shadows as it approaches, hands grasping at his clothes.

“Fuck off.” He gasps, and it feels like the air is being sucked out of his lungs as it leans closer, closer, eyes that look too familiar, yet not at all, searching his.

“Alex, Alex wants to be wanted.” It laughs, “Alex, Alex should have left not stayed.”

It strokes a hand down his face and he shudders at the clammy touch of it, but is too petrified to move.

“Alex, Alex wants Thomas to-” He wants to shut his eyes away from that hypnotic gaze but then the shadow is giggling, high-pitched and ringing in his ears. “Alex, Alex wants Thomas to _love_.”

“But Alex, Alex has been bad. Alex, Alex took James away. Alex, Alex made people sad. Alex, Alex makes people _die_.” He sobs at that, and it feels as if all of the dark broiling feelings at the back of his brain, the pits of his stomach, are rising. But it keeps going, relentless, arms wrapping around him in a fatal embrace.

“Alex, Alex doesn’t deserve to have love. Alex, Alex should learn _better_.”

It’s melting into him now, the cold of it entering his very veins, freezing his muscles.

Openly crying, he begins to struggle weakly, trying to push of the creature, but it stays fast, almost seeming to grip tighter at his muscles making him shriek in pain.

Alex is beginning to lose all hope when the shadows seem to retreat from their hold on his back. He can’t open his eyes however, they’re too heavy and he’s so _tired_.

Then the shadow is melting off him, but the chill grip of it remains, and it takes him a second to realise that it’s gone.

“Alex. Sugar, you’ve got to tell me which one of you is real.” Thomas’ voice is as nonchalant as ever, but Alex can detect a slight note of worry in it. “Pet, the only way I can help you is if you let me know.”

The other one speaks up, and Alex can hear the false sobs in his voice and he tries to scowl, but the muscles in his face won’t co-operate.

“Thomas, Thomas I’m so sorry, please, please get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want.” Alex opens his eyes a crack to see the Other Alex kneeling at Thomas’ feet with wide imploring eyes. Then it’s turning to look at him, eyes flashing with a triumphant gaze before pointing at him, lip trembling.

“It’s so frightening Thomas, please. Please get rid of it.”

He fights the chill that has frozen every muscle in his body, and his eyes inch open a fraction more. Looking up with difficulty, he looks straight into Thomas’ gaze. He’s half considering that Alex might be the creature and his throat clenches in sudden panic.

“Look, it’s even taken my shape, oh Thomas won’t you _please_.” It clutches at the material of his pants and Alex’s stomach twists at how desperate it is.

But then the ice is breaking around his jaw and he swear he can see a triumphant expression on the creature's face before he shouts.

“Thomas that isn’t real, it’s me, please help me-” His voice breaks on the last word and he can feel cold, ice-like tears leaking down his face. Thomas looks between the both of them, and his brow is furrowing now.

“I’m sorry.” It’s soft and he tries to convey all of his emotion with it, all of his panic and fear and anger, all of the sadness and guilt and sympathy.

Thomas raises a hand to him, and he flinches, before he levels it down to the creature clutching at his leg and intones one word that resonates with power.

It disappears, but not after a sly, gleeful grin at Alex.

He stumbles forward as all of the ice in his veins cracks and shatters. Thomas steps forward smoothly to catch him, and he breathes out a soft, “Thank you,” as he does.

There’s silence of a moment while Alex tries to remember how to breathe, before Thomas sets him on his feet and slides a hand through his still cool hair.

“Come on.”

* * *

 

They walk quickly through the rest of the car and Alex clutches at Thomas’ sleeve, flinching at every loud noise that the train makes, all his senses heightened and fragile.

Walking into the next train car, he musters the energy to grimace at Lafayette and Hercules in the middle of it. Laf is wound around Hercules, kissing under his jaw and hands running over his jacket.

They look up as Thomas and Alex enter, and say “ _Salut,”_ lazily, before Thomas is pushing him forward again, albeit more gently than he perhaps would have before.

“Watch him for me,” Thomas says, and disappears without a trace.

Lafayette watches the spot he’d disappeared from  for a few moments before nudging Hercules away. “And _sleep_ ,” they say, voice ringing in Alex’s ears like Thomas’ voice had, all that time ago. Herc collapses, crumpling softly to the floor. Lafayette approaches Alex slowly.

“Fuck off,” Alex says, before a giggle overtakes his words, coming from the part of his brain that’s creeping with leftover frost.

Frost that inches forward with every breath, feeding on his emotions and overwhelming -

Lafayette blurs a little, and Alex tilts his head, confused. “You’re a bit. Fuzzy. Like a peach. Are you a peach, Laf?”

When Lafayette kneels in front of him, they’ve changed.

“You’re not Laf,” Alex observes, and it’s like his whole brain is becoming sluggish with the cold.

“Glad you noticed,” His mother replies, inserting the key into the handcuff lock.

“It’s magically closed,” Alex says. He giggles again. “You’re not magic, mom. You can’t unlock it.”

“I’m not your mom, Alex,” His mother says gently.

“Yes you are,” Alex insists.

“No I’m not. I’m Aaron, remember?” She looks back at him, concern written in every line of her face.

“Aaron Burr! Sir!” He laughs, high-pitched, at the rhyme.

“Shh,” His mother whispers. “Don’t alert anyone.”

“Did you kill Lafayette, Aaron Burr, sir?”

“Stop saying sir,” His mother says flatly. “Just Aaron. Please. And no. I distracted him. Come on.”

“But where are we gonna go?”

“Somewhere Thomas can’t see you,” His mother murmurs, and her shoulders are tense with worry. “Somewhere you’ll be safe for a while.”

“Thomas can’t see me anyway, I have a protection,” Alex says. “It was James Madison’s. I don’t know why Thomas didn’t take it from me.”

“It probably has something on it that renders it unnoticeable,” His mother replies, helping him up. She taps the cuffs, and they fall away. Alex flexes his wrists experimentally.

“Where’d you learn magic? Did you make a deal at the train tracks at night?”

“No,” His mother says, then checks her watch. “Theo, goddammit, where _are you_?”

“Theodosia?” Alex asks, surprised. “I like her.”

“Of course you do,” His mother says, and a playful tone enters her voice. “I bet you I like her more.”

“Burr likes her most,” Alex hums thoughtfully. “He turns into himself around her. It’s really nice to see him. He looks better as himself. She loves him too.”

His mother makes a soft sound. “Alex, _I’m_ Aaron.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t quite believe her.

The doors open, and Theo stands there, unsteady but walking. “And so the prey joins the hunt,” She says, quieter than Alex has heard her sound before. “The wolf in sheep’s clothing, it's master confronts.”

Burr shimmers slightly, and blurs again as he transforms to himself.

“You _are_ Burr,” Alex says, surprised.

“Aaron,” Burr - Aaron - corrects again, annoyed.

Theo’s lips quirk up. “Did you deign to doubt his word? He hates to lie, don’t be absurd.”

Alex shrugs. “Oops.”

“I don’t know how long Thomas will be distracted. We should hurry.”

“Where we gonna go?” Alex repeats.

“To visit someone who wants to meet you,” Aaron says. “He helped Theo a little. Maybe he can help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Alex says.

“Don’t be ridiculous, little boy. You sit by his side, treated like a toy. You bear it as you go insane, repressing dark thoughts inside your brain.”

“We need to go,” Aaron says. “Follow Theo.”

 

* * *

 

She leads them through multiple cars before stopping at the door of one. “I’d open the door if I had the key, but Georgie thinks he’s royalty.” Something clicks, and gears turn.

“Clever,” Aaron says flatly. Theo grins.

When she opens the door, it’s to another car like the Baron’s, but more decadent, if that was even possible. But instead of the cool colours of blue and white, it’s almost jarringly red. The light from the chandeliers - not one, but two - makes Alex’s eyes sting, and he squints through it, the haze starting to recede from his mind.

There’s an overabundance of gilded items, and Alex’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s a shameless display of wealth, and looking up to the figure lounging on a veritable throne in the middle of it all, it’s easy to see why.

A golden circlet is resting on his head, jewels grabbing eagerly at the light, sparkling proudly.

Bent over a limp figure in his lap, with a beatific smile on their face, he seems to be suckling at their neck.

However, when Aaron coughs, he looks up, eyes narrowing for a moment before shifting quickly into an expression of delight and over-abundant graciousness.

“Oh, Burr, you’ve brought a guest!” He pushes the dazed figure off of him as he stands, and Alex only spares the limp form a glance before his eyes fix on the man approaching them once more.

Aaron leans forward, murmuring softly in his ear. Alex shivers a little. “This is King George. He’s not…” he hesitates here, “A real king per se, but try to call him Your Majesty.”

Alex nods, and has to resist the urge to nod twice, three times again, pushing down that quickly rising part of his brain.

“And who might you be? Alex, yes?” His accent is almost painfully British and Alex smiles, unsure how to act around him.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

‘King' George leans towards him, and Alex simply stares back. He might have stumbled back once, but… he doesn't feel that terrified anymore.

“What are your opinions on Jefferson?” The question is blunt and Alex blinks at how much weight it carries, the air of the car suddenly stifling with how much anticipation and tension is inside it.

“Well…” He pauses, wondering how to phrase his feelings. “He's an asshole.”

King George leans back on his heels, nodding with a thoughtful expression on his face. But the tension still hasn't dissipated.

“Alex, ourselves and a few others have decided that Jefferson has been far too much of a nuisance for _far too long._ ” He says it in an overly dramatic tone of annoyance.

“And we've decided that it's high time that he gets put in his place.” Alex glances back to see Theo and Aaron both looking at him with desperately hopeful eyes.

King George brings his attention back by running a hand through his hair, more gently than Thomas ever had.

Alex shuts his eyes and nods, lips making a firm, determined line on his face. “What do you need me to do?”

King George’s face breaks out in a delighted grin and he claps gleefully.

“Well isn't that wonderful! He agreed more readily than we thought he would.”

“Thomas did the hard work for us,” Aaron says. “He started treating Alex like a possession - like an animal.” Alex feels their hands brush and holds tight, feeling the warmth from Burr seep through the icy chill in his veins.

“Poor darling,” King George coos, and something inside Alex twinges at the word, so similar, yet different from how Thomas had said it. “We need you to give us information on him. Any kind at all. Where he’s going to be, where he isn’t. His weaknesses, Lafayette’s weaknesses, Von Steuben’s weaknesses. Hell, even John Laurens’.”

“You didn’t say anything about the Baron or John,” Alex says, frowning. “The Baron is nice. He doesn’t deserve whatever you want to do to Thomas.”

“But he’d back Jefferson to the end of the world, he’d back him through an apocalypse. If we want to take him down, we’ll need to make sure his supporters cannot intervene. Because much as we loathe the man, his friends are quite powerful - he himself even more so.”

“That may be true for the Baron, but John would never back him,” Alex argues. “They’re natural enemies.”

King George widens his eyes mock innocently. “Oh, really? Of course demons and _angels_ would have a rivalry, but remember that Laurens is one of the fallen, darling. And who do you think let him on the train in the first place?”

“I thought - he seemed to be friends with Lafayette -”

“They became friends on the train, Laurens would never have encountered an incubus before.”

Alex swallows, and Aaron squeezes his hand gently. “They seemed to genuinely dislike each other -”

“But Laurens will side with Jefferson because he wants to stay on the train,” King George interrupts sweetly. “Alex, we’ve thought this plan out multiple times, we know who we need to target. These beings - Von Steuben and John Laurens included - they’ll chose Jefferson over anyone else. They’ve known each other for centuries. If you think they’re your friends, you’re sorely mistaken. Jefferson likely has them playing nice to spy on you.”

“But the Baron -” Alex tries to interject weakly.

“The Baron and Lafayette have a history of hunting humans together,” King George says. At Alex’s surprised expression he smirks. “You didn’t know? Baron Von Steuben is a vampire. Known for his taste in young French boys, as you’ve likely witnessed.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes. “I didn’t -”

“Notice? Yes, Jefferson tends to charm humans’ eyes.”

Alex swallows. _The Baron had seemed so nice,_ he thinks, but he’s already reached a decision.

King George extends a hand, eyes glittering golden in the light. “Do we have a deal?”

Alex inhales deeply and takes it. As King George shakes his hand, sharklike grin adorning his face, Alex closes his eyes and whispers, “I am not throwing away my shot.”

 

* * *

 

Aaron and Theo walk Alex back to the other car in silence, and Alex realises that he hasn’t let go of Aaron’s hand. He squeezes it tighter on reflex, surprised, and is almost hurt when Aaron pulls away.

“Thank you,” Aaron says before they enter, turning to Alex abruptly. “Thank you for agreeing. I know he’s not the nicest person, but… But Thomas has done some shitty things in the past, and -”

“Aaron,” Alex interrupts. Aaron stops, blinking at him. “It’s fine. I’m happy to. Thomas is a dick, and I’m finally seeing him as one.”

“You should’ve left when you had the chance,” Aaron says.

“I know that now,” Alex responds, and opens the door. 

Alex turns to Aaron, and freezes at the proximity, trapped between the doorframe and Aaron’s chest. “Um.”

“Um,” Aaron echoes, a light dust of pink appearing on his cheeks.

They stand there staring at each other, uncertain. There’s a tension Alex is hesitant to name. Aaron’s eyes drop to the general area of Alex’ mouth and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“You go,” Alex blurts, backing up hastily. Aaron nods jerkily and enters the car. Alex lets out a breath and follows. Theo waves a goodbye, disappearing into the car they came from.

Herc is still laying on the chair where Aaron had left him. Alex sits down as close to where he remembers being before, and watches as Aaron pulls Hercules to his feet and snaps his fingers in his ear, whispering “ _wake_.”

Hercules jolts awake, and Aaron abruptly shifts into Lafayette, catching him around the waist and drops back gracefully. He hits the chair with an “oomph”, Hercules above him.

“ _Minou,_ ” Aaron says reproachfully, nudging Hercules to the side, and Alex shudders at how much he sounds like the real Lafayette.

And then Thomas is storming into the train car, practically steaming of anger. Alex makes to stand, but Thomas stops in front of him. Thomas places his hand on Alex’s shoulder and shoves him back down, before continuing to Aaron.

“Laurens is being _fucking_ insufferable.” He snaps his fingers, and falls back into a chair that hadn’t existed a second before. “Come, puppy.”

“I’m not a dog,” Alex snaps. Aaron sucks in a quiet breath when Thomas twists to face Alex, eyebrows raised disbelievingly, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Alex had spoken.

“Are you not? You act like one, following me around like a stray mutt, clinging to me whenever you see me. You’re too energetic, too excitable, too _obedient -_ ” He sneers down at him here - “to be anything but a puppy.”

Alex swallows, eyes wide. His world - already swinging on a singular string of hope - slips further, as he feels his stomach knot and his blood run cold, freezing over in his heart. His spine tingles and his breathing quickens, and he feels completely and totally numb from utter shock.

Thomas huffs, annoyed. “Well?”

Alex hurries to comply, pushing himself to his feet, but an invisible force wraps around his torso, stopping him from moving forward. “Ah, but puppies don’t _walk_ ,” Thomas says, glee lacing his voice.

Alex swears his heart stops for a moment. “But -”

Thomas lets out a short “ah!”, lifting his hand. Alex’s jaw snaps shut. He tries to continue speaking, but his mouth won’t open.

“Come here, puppy,” Thomas beckons, then points to his feet. “Sit.”

Alex tries to move forwards again, but the force around his torso stops him once more. Burr locks eyes with him, apologetic. “Just do it,” Burr mouths. “He won’t relent.”

Alex slowly lowers to his knees, and lets his gaze flicker to Thomas, who’s watching him intently. “Go on,” Thomas urges, when Alex hesitates.

Alex sets his hands on the ground and walks them forward a comfortable distance. He hangs his head slightly, staring intently at the dirt and creases in the carpet. The strands press into his palm and he clenches his fingers, digging them into the ground.

The first step, he makes with his hand. It’s torturous, and even though he hasn’t even moved closer to Thomas he feels… dirty, for lack of a better word. The second is a knee, and his body’s shifted forwards. Progress, at least. Third is his other hand, and at the pace he’s going it almost makes him tip over. Fourth is his knee, and he’s moved almost a foot forwards.

His pace is too slow for Thomas, apparently, because he clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Puppy, it’s an insult to infants to call that a crawl.”

 _Dogs don’t crawl_ , Alex thinks bitterly, but then Thomas flicks his fingers at him, smirking as he does, and something washes over his mind. Whatever it is, it’s like a wave in the ocean - rushing forward, then retreating slowly. It’s refreshingly cold, and relaxes Alex’s muscles. Cotton fills his ears, and all sounds outside his head sound as if he’s underwater. _Move forward,_ he hears. He obeys, dazed. He moves faster than he had before, but still slower than Thomas would like.

When he reaches Thomas, he sits back on his heels and leans his shoulder on the armrest, hands resting in his lap.

“Good boy,” Thomas croons, and runs a hand carefully through Alex’s hair. He turns back to Aaron and says, “As I was saying - I talked to Laurens about his allegiance. He won’t confirm anything, but he did say he’d consider my case.” He sighs. “As much as we hate each other, I do have to concede that he’s a powerful ally.”

“Mm,” Aaron agrees, and begins kissing down Hercules’ neck again, sparing a pained look at Alex that Thomas seems to miss.

“Remember to talk to Von Steuben,” Thomas says. “I’ll need to go through the Schuylers’ car, to see if they were aligned with the pretender.” His lip curls, and Alex winces as his hand clenches slightly, still tangled in his hair.

“When did you ask me to do that?” Aaron asks, startled.

Thomas stares at him. “Right before Peggy and Angelica stole the key and left…?”

“Oh, oh. _Desolé_ , _mon ami._ _J'ai oublié._ ” He waves a hand, but Alex can see the tension riddled throughout his body.

“Right,” Thomas says slowly, and stands. “I’ll go look through the Schuylers’ car now.”

“Of course,” Aaron says.

“Heel, puppy,” Thomas calls over his shoulder as he begins to exit. “You may stand.”

Alex does so, and is halfway to the doorway when Thomas snaps his fingers.

Alex jerks back, startled, and it feels as if a blanket that was placed over his head had been lifted. His mind clears, and instantly he becomes concerned - concerned that he wasn’t able to feel emotion, wasn’t able to _think_ for an undetermined time due to something Thomas had done. Concerned because - he glances back at Aaron, who, true to character, doesn’t look up peppering kisses along Hercules’ jaw. _He’ll be fine,_ Alex tries to convince himself, shoving away his worry. He hurries to follow Thomas. _But will I?_

 

* * *

 

Thomas takes him down a few cars, and swipes a different looking key into one. When he opens the door, Alex gapes. He remembers fuzzily what Eliza said - they could turn their car into a greenhouse - and wonders why they didn’t.

It’s gorgeous, trees stretching up further than the roof should plausibly reach, space bending so they fit. There’s a dirt path through them, leading towards the end of the car, which is further away than it looks.

“Hush,” Thomas says before Alex can get out a word. “I hear -” Thomas goes quiet, frowning thoughtfully at the trees.

Alex closes his eyes to listen better, frowning. There’s a faint rustling, but it might just be the wind…

Thomas darts forward, and when he backs up again, he’s grasping a ten year old kid by the arm.

The kid has a slightly darker, less blue skin tone than Eliza, and his eyes are wide and innocent, staring at the two of them like he’s never seen beings who look human. His fingers are webbed, and he’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hello,” Thomas says softly, kneeling down to face him. “And what’s your name?”

“Philip,” The boy says shyly. “Philip Schuyler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!!!


	7. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mind shattering, voices chattering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this chapter has suicide, implied rape, game of thrones-esque sexual slavery? It made us uncomfortable to write so if you don't feel comfortable pleASE DONT READ IT PLEASE HEED THESE WARNINGS

“Your mother wouldn’t let you leave the car?”

Philip shakes his head. “She told me there were bad people outside, bad people who would use me against her.”

“Eliza is right,” Thomas says. Alex whips his head around to stare at him. “There are many bad people out there who would use you for their own gain.” 

“Did you know my mommy?” Philip asks, immediately sitting up straight, eyes wide. “Do you know where she went?”

Alex makes a noise, somewhere between a disbelieving laugh and a choked off sob. Thomas pinches the inside of Alex’s forearm to shut him up, disguising it as a grab. “I do know her, we were good friends,” Thomas says, a sickly sweet tone twining around his voice. Alex has to bite his tongue not to comment on the white lie. 

“Where did she go? Why did Aunt Angie and Aunt Peggy leave? They said they’d come back for me but they haven’t.”

“Your mother went somewhere far away,” Thomas says gently. “Your Aunts had to go visit her, they must’ve thought it would take less time.” 

“Oh,” Phillip says, hanging his head. “When I asked to go with them they said something about needing to take someone named Alex with them instead. Why is Alex more important than me?”

Alex immediately feels guilt wash over him. They’d left behind their nephew to get him off the train, and he’d repaid them by taking away their only way to come back for Philip.  _ Worthless _ , he hears, and whips his head  around to look for the source - but finds nothing. Thomas gives him a strange look, but quickly smiles down at a still worried Philip. 

“He’s not, honey,” Thomas promises him, and Alex winces. “They needed to do a favor for your mommy, ok? They’ll be back before you know it. Meanwhile, will you stay with me? I’ll keep you safe from the bad monsters.” He extends a hand, and Philip takes it easily, with the kind of trust that only young children have. 

“Okay,” Philip says. 

Thomas smiles.

* * *

 

Alex trails behind as Philip chatters non-stop to Thomas, skipping slightly to keep up with the taller man’s fast pace. He’s in awe of everything he’s seeing, eyes wide and disbelieving as he looks around at all the strange creatures on the train.

Soon enough, they enter Lafayette’s car again, and Philip bounces forward, sensing that this is the seeming end of their journey.

He sticks out his hand, grinning. It makes his whole face light up, and Alex doesn’t know how a smile that big can fit on a face that small. “Hi! My names Philip! What’s your name?”

Lafayette smiles, wiggles a hand out from under a sleeping Hercules and shakes the young nymphs hand, although he seems a little strained. “ _ Bonjour, ma petite.  _ I am Lafayette. It is very nice to meet you.”

Philip rocks back on his heels and looks around the car, mouth dropping open dramatically.

“Whoa, this place is  _ huge _ .” 

While he runs around ‘exploring’, Thomas pats Alex on the shoulder, leaning down to murmur in his ear - “Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble alright? I’ll be back soon, puppy.” 

Alex flinches at the nickname, but Thomas is already gone, just the echo of a laugh in Alex’s head and a feeling of coldness rushing forward. Thomas’ warmth seems to have been holding it at bay.

Lafayette lets out a shaky breath as soon as Thomas leaves, form blurring into… Eliza. He blinks a few times, looking at Alex, who shrugs and points at Philip, guilt steadily pooling in his stomach.

Philip’s stopped in his tracks and is staring at Burr with huge, disbelieving eyes. Then he’s running forward, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he wraps his arms tight around him.

“Mommy! Mommy, where did you go?” 

Eliza’s face is helpless as Burr looks down at Philip, unsure of what to say.

Alex coughs, and Philip looks up. Alex’s heart breaks a little at how much joy is in the boy’s face.

“That...that’s not your mother Philip.” 

He frowns, and shakes his head. “No this is mommy. She’s a water nymph!”

Alex swallows, “No, this is someone called Aaron. He changes shape but can’t help who he turns into. You love your mom so much that he turned into her.”

Philip’s lip wobbles as he looks between the two of them. “That’s not… mommy?”

Alex drops to his knees in front of him and wraps his arms around the young water nymph. “I’m so sorry Philip.”

They stay like that for a moment before Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, the timber of his voice ringing in Alex’s ears as his own mother's.

“Theo wants to see you.”

Alex nods and stands slowly, taking Philips hand as he does. 

“Come on Philip. We’re going on another adventure.”

The child rubs at his eyes, and looks up at him with such trusting eyes that Alex wants to scream.

“To find my mommy?”

“No, no, we’re going to see a friend of ours.”

“Okay.” 

Alex wonders how anyone could say no to this kid. As they leave, he casts a regretful glance to Hercules, but closes the door softly. 

Theo is waiting for them as they walk in, and she raises her eyebrows at the sight of Philip.

“Eliza never had a child, from what I know… he looks awfully like her, and her boyfriend, though…”

Philip’s eyes widen in delighted surprise, and his brow furrows for a moment, before he bursts out with,"My name is Philip, gotta introduce myself, don't get distracted by my appearance… I'm not an elf!"

Theo stared back at him in astonished glee, before clapping her hands. “That was amazing, for such a little man. Do you think you can rhyme as well as I can?”

Alex leans against Aaron as he laughs at the proud look on Philip’s face. Theo shoots them a conspiratory look.

“Let’s go now Phil, leave them to it. We’ll be making rhymes, it’s me you gotta outwit.” They laugh as Theo leads him across to another one of the booths.

Alex turns to look at Aaron, and they share a quiet smile. Theo seems a lot better with Philip, and their laughter echoes through the once cold and empty car.

Aaron’s gaze softens and he leans forward slightly, and Alex’s eyes widen as their noses brush, before he’s flinching away. Laughing nervously, he smiles awkwardly at Aaron’s confused gaze.  _ What are you doing? _ He hears.  _ You idiot. _ And tries to resist looking around. There’s no one there. There’s no one there. It’s inside his head, it’s just… inside…

“Sorry,” Aaron says, and bites his lip nervously, ducking his head. “I assumed - sorry.”

“You assumed?” Alex’s voice is careful. One, because of Aaron’s clear embarrassment, and two, because if he isn’t careful, he might not be able to stop himself from rambling.

Aaron coughs, and there’s a flush darkening his cheeks. “Do I really need to spell it out…?”

Alex swallows. “Um. You assumed. What I assumed? Uh. I think.”

“You’re assuming your assumption about my assumption is correct.”

“What?”

Aaron laughs awkwardly, and rubs the back of his neck. Alex hesitates before stepping forward and placing a hand on his cheek.

“I hope this proves your first assumption right-” He says quickly before pressing forward gently. Aaron stills for a moment before his hands come up to rest gently at Alex’s waist.

It’s tender, and sweet, and Alex breathes out a soft “oh my god” as they part, foreheads leaning against each other.

There’s a moment of silence before Alex kisses Burr’s cheek quickly. “How long has that been a thing?”

Burr shrugs, still embarrassed. “I don’t know. It’s… I don’t know. I fall for people easily, but… I really do like you.”

“I think we can make it work,” Alex says.  _ You can’t. You can’t. Shut up! _ He thinks.  _ What is going on? What is going on? _

Theo sounds regretful, but her voice is urgent as she coughs, getting their attention. “Although this whole thing fills me with cheer, you have to leave, Thomas is near.”

Alex squeezes Aaron’s hand and they kiss once more, chaste before he takes Philip’s hand.

“Come on buddy, it’s time to go.”

He looks back and meets Aaron’s eyes with a soft smile, “I’ll see you later then?”

Aaron nods, flush still high on his cheeks and Alex winks before leaving, a bounce in his step. 

Alex makes it just out the door before the voice is back.  _ It’s never going to work. It’s never - never -  _

“Let’s play a game, Philip,” Alex says, voice a little higher than normal. He casts a glance around. “Do you think you can beat me back to Laf’s car?”

“Yeah!” Philip says. “Let’s race! On your marks, get set -!”

_ Go. _

Cold laughter chases him down the hall.

* * *

 

Thomas finds Burr in Theodosia’s car, standing with her. He lands, and nods at the door. 

She scowls at him. “You think you’re good, you think you’re great. The King will serve your head upon a plate.” 

“Theo,” Burr hisses. 

“Conspiring, Burr?” Thomas asks darkly.

“No,” Burr says defiantly. “And fuck you.” 

“You think your time has just begun, but now it’s time for us to have fun,” Theodosia snarls. 

“Theo!” Burr barks louder, glaring. “Stop.”

“Leave,” Thomas tells her. “Now.”

“It’s my car -”

Burr cuts her off before she can rhyme. “Theo, please.”

She bumps into Thomas’ shoulder as she leaves, but when he turns angrily to confront her, Burr stops him with a hand. “Just leave her.”

“Don’t order me around,” Thomas says, brushing Burr’s hand off his shoulder. He turns to face him, bracing himself for James as Burr’s form blurs. But Burr isn’t shrinking, in fact… he’s growing an inch. His skin lightens instead of darkening, and the first whiskers of a beard have started to appear. His hair grows out straight instead of staying short and curled, jet black. 

When Burr comes into focus, his shocked expression mirrors Thomas’ own. “Oh,” he breathes, hand reaching up unconsciously to touch his face. He inhales sharply at the prickly hairs he finds there. He looks down at this hands, flipping them in front of himself. He swallows. 

Thomas remains completely motionless, staring blankly at Burr’s face as he lifts his head. They lock eyes, both too surprised to do anything.

“You love him,” Burr says, breaking the stillness. 

Thomas  _ moves _ , a complete contradiction to his former state. He has Burr pinned to the opposite wall in a millisecond, eyes burning like hot coals in a fire pit. “I would  _ never _ ,” He snarls, “ _ Ever _ love  _ anyone _ more than I love James. You’re lying,  _ somehow _ , and I will  _ FIND OUT HOW! _ ”

“I’m not!” Burr says, eyes wide. “I swear, I  _ can’t _ . And you know me, I stay to the side, I keep my head down. Talk less, smile more. Why would I do something like this on  _ purpose _ ?”

“Because of what I came to you for,” Thomas whispers hoarsely, and pushes further forward, resting a hand on Burr’s thigh.

Burr’s expression shifts, going from uncooperative to terrified in an instant. “No,” He says. “No, you said it was over, you said you would stop!”

“ _ You _ said you’d never side with anyone over me, and yet here we are.”

“I’m not siding with anyone! I don’t pick sides!”

“That may have been true then, but it isn’t anymore.”

“I’m not James,” Burr says, becoming more panicked now. “I can’t control who I shift to, and you want James!”

“If you can’t become James,” Thomas says, and nips at Burr’s ear, breathing, “then Alex is fine.”

“No.”

“In fact, right now -” Thomas runs a hand through the shiny black locks that don’t normally belong to Burr. “I’d prefer Alex.”

“Please don’t,” Burr says, squirming. Thomas kisses open-mouthed down his neck, even as he tries to get away. “Thomas, please.”

“Shut the fuck up, Burr,” Thomas growls. “Act like Alex, or shut the  _ fuck  _ up.”

Burr swallows, tilts his head back. Lets it rest against the wall. He closes his eyes as tears begin to gather at the corners, unwilling to let Thomas see him cry. He yelps as Thomas grabs at his crotch, and his breaths turn shallow as Thomas lifts off his shirt.

Thomas gropes Burr’s ass with one hand, using the other to tilt his face and claim his mouth in a bruising kiss. “Be a good puppy for me, and  _ obey _ ,” he whispers, staring into Alex’s brown eyes. 

Burr doesn’t quite manage to choke back his sob.

* * *

 

Alex spares a panicked thought to finding Lafayette, to keep up the ruse, but decides it’s not worth it and continues rushing down the cars, trying to find the one with Herc. 

Then he slams into someone, and stumbles back, stunned. The other is steel, unmoving. “Alex?”

_ Fuck _ . Alex musters up a smile. “Laf.”

“Who is this?”

Philip opens his mouth, confused - likely because Burr had met him before, shaped like Lafayette. Alex shushes him quickly. “Philip. Schuyler. Eliza’s son. He’s ten.”

“The nymph had children?” Lafayette looks vaguely surprised.

“Just me,” Philip pipes up.

Lafayette spares him a glance. “ _ Oui _ , so it would seem,  _ ma petit. _ ”

“I’m not little,” Philip pouts. 

Lafayette laughs dismissively, and pats Philip on the head. “Of course not. Alex,  _ mon cher,  _ why is Thomas not with you?”

“He left us with Hercules, he thought you’d be back soon. When you weren’t, we went searching.”

“He didn’t lock the door?”

“I picked the lock,” Alex says. 

“You can pick locks…?” 

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I learned from my mom’s friend.”

“Hm.” Lafayette eyes him consideringly, before shrugging. “Follow me. If you try to escape I will not hesitate to cut off your legs.”

“Are you gonna play fight?” Philip asks curiously. 

“ _ Non _ ,  _ mon cheri. _ ” Lafayette says.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Alex says loudly, frowning at them. “Laf is just kidding.”

Lafayette rolls their eyes, continuing down the car. “Your, how you say, coddling - is not good for children.”

“I’m not a child!”

“I am 738 years older than you, child,” Lafayette says dismissively. 

“Really?” Philip asks, awed. “That’s so cool!”

Alex takes Philip’s hand quickly, following them. “Is Thomas older?”

“ _ Oui. _ Nearly three hundred years older, if I recall correctly.”

Alex laughs, high pitched and funny-sounding. “That would make him over a thousand years old.”

“ _ Oui _ ,” Lafayette says. “Thomas must seem ancient to you humans, no?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, swallowing.  _ The age difference… _

They arrive at the car, and Lafayette sighs at Hercules’ unconscious form. “Wake up,  _ minou. _ ”

Alex turns Philip to face the other direction when they bend down, kissing Hercules’ forehead. He doesn’t want a ten year old to witness Lafayette’s definition of affection, human or not. 

Thomas has been gone for a while, Alex realizes, and starts to feel worried. An icy feeling clouds his mind, and he presses his thumb to the roof of his mouth subtly to try to get it to go away. 

“Alex, are you alright,  _ mon cher? _ ” Lafayette asks. They actually look concerned, to Alex’s surprise. 

_ You run in circles, chasing your tails. You’ll try to take us down and fail,  _ Alex thinks. He giggles a little and says, “I’m fine.”

As the ice recedes, he swallows and thinks that might’ve been a lie.

* * *

 

When Thomas does come back, he’s bouncy and chipper, all smiles. Alex eyes him warily, and he gives Alex a big blinding grin.

Alex blinks at him. “You’re awfully happy.”

“Mhm,” Thomas replies, pulling Alex to his side and quickly beginning to detangle the knots in Alex’s hair. Alex is almost suspicious of what Thomas had done while away to make him  _ this  _ happy.

“Anything interesting happen?” Thomas asks. 

Lafayette is still absorbed in Hercules, the two of them sitting across the room, but Alex glances over there anyway. “Not much,” he says, and prays Lafayette doesn’t mention them wandering the train.

“Hm,” Thomas says. “Walk with me. Leave Philip, he’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and pulls away to find him quickly.

“I don’t want you to go,” Philip whines before Alex can even get a word out. 

“I won’t be gone long,” Alex says. 

“But I don’t like him,” Philip says, pointing to Lafayette.

“Them,” Alex corrects. “Just stay away then, alright? Don’t leave the car unless they do.”

“Okay,” Philip whispers. “Come back soon.”

“I will.”

“Beings are angry,” Thomas says after the door clicks shut. “They want you dead. They want compensation from me.”

“For what?” Alex asks, surprised.

“When I tore down the wards to James’ car, it cracked the wards around the rest of the train. You know the ones.”

_ The ones that keep humans in line,  _ Alex thinks. His hand drifts up and he clutches it around the amulet - the only thing letting him keep a clear head. 

“So there are cars like this,” Thomas says, and snaps his fingers. 

The car doesn’t appear to change, but Thomas opens the door and there - the inside of the car looks more like a warehouse than a car, and someone stands on a pedestal screaming “ _ DOWN WITH JEFFERSON! _ ” at a roaring crowd. Cheers of agreement rise up, and soon the whole room is echoing the words.

“Oh,” Alex says. “Shit.”

Thomas closes the door and snaps again. “I’ll need to stay with you nearly all the time, to make sure you aren’t getting trampled by a mob.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He hesitates. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“No reason in particular,” Thomas says, but smirks at Alex, looking entirely too smug.

“Okay,” Alex repeats, but he’s not convinced. Thomas opens the door behind them leading back to Lafayette’s car.

“That  _ was _ quick,” Philip says. 

“Did you doubt me?” Alex jokes.

“Maybe a little,” Philip says back, completely solemn.

Alex stares back, offended, before Philip starts giggling. “I believe you’ve been played,” Thomas says, resting his chin on Alex’s head. 

“Damn it,” Alex says, grinning. “Outsmarted by a ten year old.”

Philip laughs, delighted.

“We should leave them to their… fun,” Thomas says, glancing back at Lafayette and Hercules. 

Alex inhales sharply, having forgotten about Hercules. He feels guilty for a moment, but there’s nothing he can do to help right now. “Alright. We’re taking Phil with us, right?”

“Did you call me Phil?” His eyes are wide as he looks up at him and Alex feels a pang of remorse at how  _ innocent _ this kid is.

“Do you not like that?”

“No, it’s fine,” Philip says, with a shy smile. “No one’s given me a nickname before.”

“Yes, we’re taking Philip with us,” Thomas says. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

 

The next car is a crowded one. 

Alex shivers, anticipating a change because of the amulet. Philip clutches Alex’s hand tighter, as if sensing the air turn sour. “Come, puppy,” Thomas says, and Alex abandons his reluctance to answer to that name, too terrified of the others around him. 

Once he’s close to Thomas - close enough for Alex to be able to feel the heat radiating off his body - Alex looks around. 

And immediately closes his eyes. 

In the brief glimpse he’d gotten, he’d already seen too much. 

Most humans are naked. One human is bent on all fours and being used as a footstool for a rather large slimey humanoid who looks bored, talking to a few fawning fae. There are a few kneeling on the ground, forced to eat from a plate of scraps - and collared. Their leashes are ornately decorated, and are wrapped around their ‘masters’’ hands. Alex shudders as he remembers them, Thomas’ voice echoing through his head -  _ puppy _ . 

Another is lying on a table, completely still, as beings around them lick and pick food off their body. Several are feeding beings with trembling hands, and more are being forced to beg for food. A being in the corner is dripping some kind of discharge everywhere, while a human follows it, scrubbing at the floor hurriedly. A closer glance reveals that the human’s flesh is melting off where their hands are touching the towel. 

And there are several humans kneeling in front of their spread-legged masters, heads down and faces pressing into their crotches in a way that makes it unmistakable what’s happening. Alex flinches at the choked gurgles he can hear from one particularly young human.

“Afraid, puppy?” Thomas coos, running his hand halfway through Alex’s hair quickly, before tightening his grip and pulling Alex’s head up to face him. “Open your eyes.” He lets his hand drift from the black strands onto Alex’s cheek.

Alex does so slowly, further tightening his grip on Philip’s hand. 

“You can see,” Thomas says, surprised. “You’re scared because there’s something letting you -” He stops short, fingertips barely grazing Alex’s collarbone. “You still have James’ amulet.”

“Yes,” Alex says, and then more quickly, “Please don’t take it…”

Thomas hesitates, before withdrawing his arm. “Walk, puppy,” he orders, and strides to the exit. 

Alex follows quickly, wrapping Philip in his arms and trying to cover his wide eyes from seeing all the horrors around him. 

“What are they doing?” Philip asks quietly, pointing to one of the humans between a creature’s legs. “Why are they sitting like that?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Alex says quickly, pulling him faster. 

By the time they reach the door, Philip has asked about four other humans in compromising positions, and Alex can only wince as Thomas smirks. “We’ll make a grown nymph of you yet,” He murmurs, ruffling Philip’s hair. 

Alex resists the urge to yank Philip away from him, instead clenching his fists at his sides as Philip fights to get his hair back into place, and Thomas resumes walking.

They pass through several cars before they end up at Theo’s. 

“Burr,” Thomas says coolly, not stopping. Philip trails behind him awkwardly, staring with wide eyes at Alex, who approaches Aaron quickly. 

“You’re a mess,” Alex whispers, and squats down, taking Aaron’s hand. He rubs Aaron’s knuckles soothingly. Aaron’s leaning on a wall, staring into the distance blankly. He flickers a little before shifting into Alex’s mother. Alex swallows, recognizing the expression now that it’s on  _ her _ face. “Aaron. Aaron, please, what happened?”

“Thomas,” Aaron whispers hoarsely, and his smile is empty, pained. “Thomas happened.”

Alex takes a moment to think - his mind refusing to connect the dots - before he reels back, shocked. “No.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, no, I do. You turn into James for him, that’s… it’s not unreasonable.” He’s scrambling for options, the image of Thomas in his head becoming blurred and confusing.

“I don’t turn into James,” Aaron states slowly. “Not anymore.”

“You don’t?” Alex says, surprised. “Then who?”

“Alex!” Thomas snaps, stalking back over from the door, leaving Philip standing there, still small and unsure.

Thomas reaches out to pull Alex away from Aaron, but Alex moves back quickly, startling Thomas enough that he stops. 

Alex watches in horror as Aaron is forced to shift to -

No.

Alex blanches, and he stares, terrified. 

Aaron’s form shifted to almost an exact mirror image of him.

Aaron shifts to  _ him _ around Thomas now. Which means-

Alex resists the urge to puke.  _ It’s my fault _ , a little voice in the back of his head whispers.  _ Thomas forced Aaron because Aaron looks like me _ .

“Alex,” Thomas growls, and moves away from Aaron quickly. “Start walking.”

_ He doesn’t know you know what he did _ , Alex repeats to himself.  _ He doesn’t know you know what he did _ . _ Don’t give it away. _

Aaron is already transforming, becoming more and more like a blurred shape as Alex and Thomas move away. Philip is looking up at Alex, and he looks as if he’s about to ask what's going on when Alex shakes his head, still shell-shocked by the information he’d stumbled upon. Laughter rings in his head once more, and he wants to plug his ears, try to drain it out, but. He knows that won’t work.

The next car that he gets pulled into is another chaotic one, with the noise level above anything that Alex had heard since being on the train. Thomas’ lip curls at it and his shoulders are tense as he carves a path through.

It’s almost painfully obvious how unwilling some of them are to acknowledge his presence, and one of them, in a remarkably human gesture, flips him off before disappearing. Alex’s eyebrows jump up and he looks quickly sideways for any kind of reaction but Thomas’ face is carefully blank.

Suddenly there’s a commotion from one end of the train and Alex twists around as Philip tugs on his hand. Squinting through the quickly clustering group, he can just barely hear the screams of a person.

“Let  _ go of me _ !  _ You _ won’t let me die, so let me do it myself-” They’re wailing, and the crowd clears for a second, letting Alex have a glimpse of what’s going on.

They have scratches running all down their arms and sides from where someone had obviously tried to grab them, and tear marks still drying on their face. They’ve backed up against the door and as Alex meets their terrified, manic gaze they grin, raising one hand in a condescending salute. He glances back to see Thomas staring at them, a mix of emotions in his face, of anger, and… not fear, but alarm, as if he can’t quite believe that this is happening.

Then they’re throwing the door of the train open and-

Alex backs away quickly as they throw themself off of the quickly moving train. He feels frozen to the floor as the cold part of his mind creeps forward again, poison flooding through his system. 

His mind flicked from images of Richard to his mother and the empty, empty looks in their eyes. 

James screaming that he just wanted everything to be over.

A gun hanging from limp hands.

Philip makes a pained sound beside him and it’s only then that Alex realises how tightly he’s been holding onto the young boy’s hand.

He let’s go quickly and presses a hand to his mouth, gripping the corner of one of the seats of a booth, feeling bile rise sticky and sour to the back of his throat.

Then a hand is carding through his hair and a low voice is muttering in his ear.

“You’re making a scene. Not here. There’s too much unrest here. We need to leave.” 

He stands shakily, still not quite sure that he isn’t going to vomit but focusses on the feeling of rough fingers catching on knots in his hair, to keep the rolling mess of his insides from rising.

He barely registers the wind catching at him as they cross from one car to the next but his mind vaguely thinks that it shouldn’t be like that. The train had created almost a bubble of space around it before but now… it wasn’t like that.

He feels a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to meet Philip’s concerned gaze.

“Are you okay? Mommy used to look like that a lot when she came to see me. She was sad a lot. Don’t be sad.” His voice is clear, and breaks through the cotton packed so solidly around him.

Alex pats his shoulder and forces a smile. “I promise I won’t be sad Phil.” The lie coats his mouth with bitter taste.

“Good,” Philip says firmly. “I like you. You shouldn’t be sad.”

There’s a definite tension to the next car, of electrifying anger and a nervous fever running high. 

More creatures are openly sneering at Thomas and he thinks that… this might have been one of the riot cars that he’d been shown earlier. They move quickly through, but there are still creatures that reach out to grab at him, long fingers curling around his arm before he jerks away with a starts.

Philip’s hand in his is an anchor, a point of warmth. 

And then it’s wrenched away.

There’s immediate silence except for the high pitched laughter of the wild eyed human with their arms wrapped around the obviously inhuman boy. 

Philip’s eyes are wide and alarmed as a jagged knife is pressed to his throat. He’s looking desperately at Alex but Alex is frozen to the spot, staring at the human whose mind has been pushed so far to the edge and has finally toppled over, hairline thin cracks finally being wrenched wide open. “ _ Let me off, _ ” The human - if you could even call them that at this point - hisses. 

Looking back, Alex flinches at the anger in Thomas’ eyes. Tension radiates off his very being in palpable waves. There’s a fire there - in that emotion - something Alex had never seen even in defense of himself, not even when Washington tried to take him from Thomas. It’s stupid of him, to be jealous of a child who  _ does _ need the protection. 

But Philip is a nymph, and Alex is human. Maybe it’s not the age that makes Thomas angry - he’s a millennia old, Alex at nineteen and Philip at ten probably aren’t that much different. Which brings Alex, wincing, to a whole litany of topics that he doesn’t want to think about relating to the 980 plus age difference between him and Thomas. 

He digresses. Philip is a nymph. 

Alex is human. 

There’s probably a distinction in Thomas’ mind between “replaceable object” and “living being”. Apparently Alex belongs in the former category. 

The realization stings, and as he watches his surroundings in what is almost becoming slow motion, he feels as if he’s lifting from his body, becoming airborne and watching from outside his own eyes. He turns as Thomas moves forward, keeping an eye on him at all times, and Alex wonders why it seems he doesn’t seem to be controlling his own body. His head pounds, and the noises of the crowd around him blur into a high pitched whine, loud enough that he’s bothered but soft enough that he has to cover his ears to hear it. He rubs his eyes furiously, trying to scrub away the visions imprinted on his eyelids, and distantly hears Philip screaming - something wrong is happening, Alex knows, he needs to see -!

His eyes are flashing between spots of light, and utter darkness, and he tries to blink them away to see Philip because he  _ needs _ to make sure Philip is okay. 

The human is on the floor, limp. Alex closes his eyes, having seen too much blood today already. It’s pooling anyway, and it’s seeping into Alex’s shoes. He swallows. 

“Puppy,” Thomas murmurs gently, right in front of Alex’s face. Alex doesn’t react, still floating a little.  _ It’s a dream. The whole thing is just a dream. It isn’t real. I’m at home. Richard probably… probably accidently knocked me out. Or something.  _

A hand brushes Alex’s hair back, and lips press a soft close-mouthed kiss to Alex’s forehead. “Come on, puppy. Let’s go.”

Another hand - smaller, less calloused - grips onto Alex’s. He looks down, slowly, and closes his eyes again when the carpet is miles underneath him, stretching down further than he thought he was tall.  _ Lack of spacial awareness _ , he vaguely acknowledges, not really paying attention to his own thoughts.  _ My mind won’t recognize my own limbs’ size - won’t recognize their movements - unless I see them in action.  _

His legs are walking. He doesn’t know when they started. 

The small hand clenches tighter, and Alex doesn’t wince as the fingernails draw blood, instead frowning at the red drip-drip-dripping onto the duller red carpet. 

“Alex?” the hand says. Alex glances over to see Philip’s worried face peering up at him. There’s a slice of a blue-ish color from the left side of his nose to the middle of his lower lip, and Alex frees his hand, hesitantly reaching up to brush the drops of red on his fingertips against the slice of blue on Philip’s face. 

Philip breathes in sharply, screwing up his face in pain. 

“Alex,” Thomas snaps, standing by the door. “Come  _ here _ . Now.”

Alex barely registers his own name, but realizes later that this is the first time since - since - never? 

_ Thomas has never called me by my name _ , he thinks.  _ Ever _ .

“I need to take Philip somewhere you can’t go,” Thomas says, and Philip barely protests as Alex passes him over. “He’ll be fine. It’s just - contamination.”

_ Red _ , Alex thinks. Watches as the dark purple drips off Philip’s nose with a kind of terror because - he shouldn’t have mixed the blood.  _ He shouldn’t have mixed their blood.  _

Thomas snaps his fingers.

“Be good, puppy,” Alex hears - a whisper in the wind, the only trace of Thomas and Philip left as they wink out of existence.


	8. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for some t jeffs angst ;;;;; ))))

Thomas stumbles into solidity, startling a woman standing at the side of the car. “Thomas, what -” She halts completely when she sees the shaking blue form in Thomas’ arms. “ _ MARTHA! _ ”

“ _ JESUS CHRIST ADRIENNE NO NEED TO YELL - _ ” The woman bursting into the car jerks to a stop. “Shit. Thomas, lay him down over here.”

“Thank you,” He says, complying. “Thank you Martha, I’m sorry -”

“Don’t thank me,” She snaps, already moving lightning fast above Philip. “You’re going to give me every detail that lead to you getting this poor boy so hurt.”

Thomas swallows, and moves out of her way. She ignores him.

“Terrifying, isn’t she,” Adrienne says. Thomas nods sharply. “This is why you don’t befriend your exes,” She continues.

Thomas sputters. “Beth is friends with -!” 

“We’re not talking about Beth’s ex,” Martha calls. “Nor are we talking about Adrienne’s. _We_ _are not talking about that shit show_ , not now.”

“Sorry babe,” Adrienne says. 

“Sorry,” Thomas echoes, sincerely. 

It feels like forever before Martha sits back and exhales, relieved. “He’ll live,” She says. 

“Good,” Thomas says. “Thank you, Martha.”

“Why was he hurt?” Martha shoots back. 

“Who?” They hear, and together turn to face the newcomer. In her hands are a small bundle, and from behind her legs peaks a small human-looking child, with wide eyes and curly brown hair falling in tight curls to just above her shoulders. The adult’s eyebrows raise, surprised. “Oh. Hello, Thomas.”

“Elizabeth,” Thomas says cordially. “I was just -”

“He had me heal a child,” Martha interrupts. “The wound was contaminated with human blood.”

“James?” Beth asks, alarmed. 

Thomas ignores the little flutter his heart does. “No,” He says. “Alexander.”

“You have another pet?” She doesn’t look pleased.

“Beth,  _ mon amour _ , please -” Adrienne tries. 

“I mean I suppose you remember his name, unlike  _ some people _ -”

“Gilbert remembers Hercules’ name -”

“It took him a solid week, Martha!”

“Beth,” Thomas interrupts. “Adrienne. Martha.  _ Please _ .”

“ _ Desolé _ ,” Adrienne says. Neither Beth nor Martha speak up. 

“George is acting up again,” Thomas says. “There’s going to be a fight soon. A battle or a war, I don’t know, but it’s unavoidable this time.”

“You want to know if we’ll side with you,” Martha says. Thomas nods. 

Adrienne sighs. “Thomas, you know we’re restrained, due to -” She casts a glance at the young girl still hiding behind Beth’s legs.

“Of course,” Thomas says hastily. “I just want to know if you’ll side with me, in the end.”

“We need to think,” Martha says. “Discuss amongst ourselves. Leave the nymph, he needs his rest.”

“Of course,” Thomas says. “I’ll go.” He hesitates. “Can I…?”

Martha worries her bottom lip, before glancing at Adrienne, who gives a short nod. “Yeah,” Martha decides. “Be quick.”

Thomas makes it across the room in five long strides, arriving in front of Beth. He squats down, eye-level with the child. “Patsy?” He says softly, extending a tentative hand.

She crosses her arms and turns her head sharply, a childish pout on her lips. 

He has to stifle a laugh at how much she looks like him in that moment.

“Patsy, poppet, come on don’t be mad.” 

She only looks at him for a second, but Thomas can see the suppressed joy in her eyes before she wrenches them away again steadfastly.

“Hey,” Thomas whispers softly. “It’s been a while, hm?”

She nods, and he can see her lip quiver, eyes glistening. It really had been a long time since he’d last visited. She’d been a baby when he’d last seen her.

“Are you just going to ignore me poppet?” He mimics her expression and she lets out a giggle as he does. Hair falling over her face, she peeks up at him with mischievous eyes before throwing herself at him, thin arms wrapping tight around his neck.

“I missed you pops. Why d’you have to go for so long?” Her voice is a low whisper and Thomas’ heart pangs at the quaver in her voice.

“I’m sorry, poppet. I’ve just been busy.”

“It’s okay. It used to be really lonely with only mommy but now I have a friend.” She steps back from her tight embrace and points at the bundle in Beth’s arms.

“That’s Georges. He's okay.” She leans in closer and her eyes widen as she mock whispers into his ear. “He's a bit of a crybaby.”

Thomas apparently looks incredulous enough as she nods, rocking back on her heels with a conspiratorial smile.

Leaning forward, he pinches her cheek lightly, making her scrunch up her face is disgust.

“Have you been a good girl for mommy?”

A quick glance at Martha’s soft eyes, and indulgent smile makes Thomas think that Patsy’s perhaps been getting away with more than she should be. 

“Mommy’s starting to glare at me. I have to go, Patsy.” His chest tightens as he stands and Patsy frowns up at him, expression shuttering closed once. 

“But why can't you stay forever pops? Don't you love me?” Her eyes are huge staring up at him out of her thin face and he shakes his head quickly gathering her up in his arms.

“No poppet I do love you, I've just got too much work to do.”

He can hear her sniffle into his collar as she says softly. “I love you pops.”

“Love you too,” He whispers, and slowly puts her down again, waving as Adrienne takes her hand. 

The baby Beth holds decides this moment is perfect to start wailing. 

“ _ Georges _ ,” Adrienne sighs. “ _ S'il vous plaît, mon enfant. _ ”

“He’s a handful, isn’t he,” Thomas says, amused. 

“If you take care of him for a week I’ll give you literally anything,” Adrienne says with a straight face. “You’d take him straight back to me though. He’s more than a handful, he’s - he’s - how you say, a truckload full?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Thomas says.

She rolls her eyes. “English is stupid.”

“French is English with an accent,” Martha cuts in.

“ _ Non, _ ” Adrienne says, offended. 

“Wasn’t he just leaving?” Beth says pointedly. 

Thomas raises his hands in surrender. “Call me when he wakes,” He says, nodding at Philip. He then disappears quickly.

“What if no one takes my side?” He wonders aloud, and curses at himself. Thankfully, the car he’d landed in is empty. 

War - or battle - with anyone is complicated. Warfare is not as straightforward as story books would have you believe - there is never a good side or a bad side, never a morally righteous king or an evil, sinister magic user. No. Warfare means crossing lines you never thought you’d have to in order to survive - allying yourself with beings you  _ hate _ just because “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”, but when your enemy is your enemy’s enemy there are no longer only two sides to the conflict. 

Hell, there are never two sides. 

In a battle for a crown between two tyrannical powers, the peasants and poor will rebel, unwilling to submit to either. 

In a battle between a vampire and a demon, the humans will rebel, unwilling to be treated the way they’ve been treated. 

Alex hates him.

“Puppy”, Thomas calls him now. “Puppy”. Degrading, demeaning, humiliating. 

The complete turnaround Thomas made after what happened with James - he had almost given himself whiplash, if he’s honest. 

The humans aren’t important here, though. Even if the wards  _ are _ weakening from the force he’d used to break into James’ car, even if the spell and fog are lifting from the humans’ minds… 

The important beings to get on his side are the powerful non-humans, the ones he knows hate the Pretender with a goddamn passion and wouldn’t side with him for the world. 

Ten in total - twelve, if he counts himself and the Pretender - ten of the most powerful beings on the train.

Lafayette. Dolley. Washington. Von Steuben, definitely. 

Martha, undecided. 

Tallmadge and Brewster are out of the picture, having ditched the train months ago.

André would side with the Pretender. So would Reynolds - human as he is, he’s still ranked among them - leaving…

Laurens. 

Laurens hates the Pretender with his entire being, hates everything he stands for, hates his family, his clothes, his hair. Hates the way he walks, hates the stolen blood running through his veins. Hates his voice, hates his ideals.

If Thomas were anything but a demon, Laurens would side with him in an instant. 

But given the ingrained hatred of each other’s species, when Thomas asked (begged, more like), Laurens skirted his gaze around him, eyes darting everywhere but Thomas. “Maybe,” he’d said skittishly. “Give me a while to think.”

Lafayette, Dolley, Washington, and Von Steuben. 

Four beings on his side. Two undecided. Two with George. Two MIA.

Any way this goes, he and George will be evenly matched, or the numbers will be in Thomas’ favor - though the crowds rioting earlier will be looking for a leader, and George is perfect for that. 

“Fuck,” Thomas mumbles, and teleports quickly to Von Steuben’s car. 

“Thomas!” The Baron says jovially. “It’s been a while, no?”

Thomas snorts, taking a seat in the decadently furnished car. “Yeah, a while since you turned against me in favour of Alex.”

Von Steuben laughs amiably, brushing off the jab like it’s nothing. “Honestly Thomas, it was just a game. You know that things get terribly boring on the train without  _ something _ spicing it up.”

Thomas rolls his eyes. Of course the Baron would only be concerned with how entertaining this could become.

“You did cause quite a ruckus, didn’t you?” His eyes are sharp as he speaks, and Thomas’ mouth tightens. “Made my poor Ben  _ oh _ so frightened.”

He reaches out to stroke the aforementioned boy's cheek gently.

Thomas coughed, suddenly awkward under his piercing gaze. “I… might have lost my temper.”

“You  _ may _ have?” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, “You almost destroyed half of the train! Your loss of temper is not up for debate.”

Thomas blanches, but presses on diligently. “This train might be torn apart anyway.”

“Hm?” The Baron is very carefully not meeting his eyes and it makes skittish feeling in Thomas’ stomach grow.

“The Pretender is trying to gather together his forces again.” 

The Baron looks up sharply, and with the connection of their gazes, the conversation has become a minefield - of flowers or explosions, though, Thomas has yet to find out.

“Yes. I’ve heard rumours that King George is stirring up trouble.” His eyes flit to meet Thomas’ and there’s an ancient malice in them, a glint that makes his benevolent demeanour evaporate like frost in the morning. “Greedy bastard, isn’t he.”

“Hm.” Thomas gives a grunt of acknowledgement.

The Baron and the King have had a rivalry going back centuries. They were both of very old blood, but from warring family lines. From all the trouble they’d made in the world in their youth it was no surprise that they’d ended up on the train. 

Everyone ended up on the train eventually.

“I need to know if you’ll stand with me.” He leans forward, voice intent. Really, he has no doubt that the Baron would side with him, but he did love to play games.

Just as he thought, the Baron only hums, putting a hand to his lips mock-wonderingly. 

“Oh I don’t know. That might be too much work.” 

Thomas grits his teeth, but forces a smile onto his face, “This could be a chance to get rid of him forever. He’s been a thorn in your side for so long after all.”

But yet the Baron still hems and haws, as if it’s the hardest decision in the world.

Thomas, however, is getting increasingly agitated. He stands, fists clenched at his sides.

“I know you’re playing with me, I swear if you keep-”

But the vampire doesn’t even have the gall to look shocked at  _ this _ turn of events. “Sit down Thomas, come now, it was just a joke between friends.”

“Well it wasn’t a  _ funny _ one.” He mumbles like a petulant child, but the tight knot of worry in his chest has dissipated, and he feels like he can breathe.

The Baron then pulls Ben gently up to sit beside him, carding gentle fingers through his hair, making him giggle with the sweet nothings he whispers in his ear.

Thomas shifts, not because he’s uncomfortable, but because the sight makes his stomach tighten again.

The easy way that the two embrace, how Ben coyly turns his head away. 

“You know Thomas,” The Baron finally says, “One of the huge reasons I don’t like the King? He doesn’t treat his pets well at all. His  _ amours _ .”

He purses his lips and the look he gives Thomas is too knowing for comfort. “And one  _ should _ treat their pets well. Don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Thomas grits out, firmly keeping his mind off of Alex - Alex in the collar, Alex kneeling, Alex looking up at him with soulful eyes, Alex fucking  _ crawling _ \- stop _. _

“Glad you agree,” The Baron says, and draws away from Ben slightly to lean forward and murmur, “Take care of him, Thomas. Your recent behavior towards him will make him want to rebel.”

Thomas recalls something Laurens said earlier, about his actions not “inspiring a very loyal pet”, and swallows down his retort. “Of course,” He repeats, instead. 

The Baron leans back, but the expression on his face is still skeptical. “Good,” He says, and turns back to Ben. “If you’d excuse us.”

Thomas narrowly stops his jaw from dropping at the abrupt dismissal. “Of course,” He repeats for the third time, stiffly. He stands, and brushes imaginary lint off his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the battle,” He says. 

And then he’s gone. 

* * *

 

Another empty car, another cracked leather booth creaking under his thighs as he slides down, fingers tapping another incessant rhythm on the varnished wood. Another wave of thoughts, crashing down on the tail end of his lifeboat, the only thing keeping him afloat in the sea of pounding voices and words. It shoves him closer to shore then viciously yanking him back out. Indecisive between pummeling him onto the rocks by the cliffs - from which he’d previously lorded over his mindscape - or drawing him into the unknown depths where he’d surely be torn from the hastily-made raft and drowned. 

He inhales at a count of seven, holds it shakily, and lets it out in short puffs. Alex. Alex. Alex. Why can’t he think of anything else? His mind, his being, his fucking train. They all revolve around one stubborn goddamn human who won’t fucking submit. Who waltzed into Thomas’ life - seemingly normal, seemingly a straight deal - and took over completely. 

Turned his world upside down. 

Knocked aside the carefully placed red checkers and added a pearlescent set of chess pieces in unprecedented places. Taking startling risks - 

“ _ You’re the one who left me alone with him, I assumed that was because you thought he’s trustworthy… _ ”

“ _ What the fuck did you do, you sick bastard? Are you just taunting me? You’re condescending enough, then you go and just dangle my dead mother right over my nose? Is this all a game to you? _ ”

“ _ He leans up, sweeps his tongue over Thomas’ collarbone before latching on, sucking a bruise into his skin… _ ”

Thomas shakes his head to rid himself of the memory. The thoughts bring a flush to his face and something tingles down his spine. 

He forces himself to scowl and kicks at the post of the table. Alex, Alex, Alex. Again and again and again and again until  _ Alex _ is consuming his mind - and  _ Thomas _ was supposed to be the one doing the consuming, not on the other side being consumed. He squeezes his eyes shut and scrubs his open palms over the lids until he can see pinpricks of blinding light in the darkness. He reopens them, watches the bright shapes slowly disappear as he blinks, and refrains from rubbing them further. 

“ _ Is this just a game to you? _ ” Alex, Alex, Alex. Around in a circle Alex goes, scampering back and forth and playing both sides until a favorable outcome worms its way to the surface - an outcome where he lands himself  _ far away  _ from Thomas. 

Martha and James and Alex and all three drew away eventually, all three saw something in Thomas that Thomas  _ can’t _ see. All three - maybe Martha in particular - held something for him, then… 

Martha found Adrienne. Martha-and-Adrienne found Beth. 

James drew away and curled into himself, refusing to speak to him, mind consumed with thoughts he couldn’t understand.

Alex.

Well.

Thomas doesn’t know what Alex is doing, but it’s not looking good.

* * *

 

Thomas is about to give in and go pester Laurens again - one of the few beings in the train who can match him in combat, one of the few beings Thomas  _ cares _ to coerce onto his side - when Laurens calls to him.

He’d like to say he isn’t surprised by this turn of events… but he is. 

Laurens had seemed reluctant, when Thomas initially approached him. Thomas worries that Laurens will refuse to chose a side again, but as he lands and glances around, assessing, it seems that’s not the case. There’s an air of decision about him, and he’s frowning as if speaking to Thomas will be the hardest thing he’s done in centuries. “You’re not making this easy,” He snipes. 

Thomas rolls his eyes. “I’m just  _ standing _ .”

“You’re breathing,” Laurens retorts. “It’s  _ annoying. _ ”

“If you haven’t made a decision -”

“No, I have.” There’s a silence for another few minutes, before Laurens sighs heavily, as if Thomas is asking a great deal of him, to talk. “You know I hate King George.”

“I had  _ no _ idea,” Thomas says. “The time when you yelled my ear off for letting him take that human he has now - Samuel? - aboard didn’t tip me off. And certainly neither did the time when he almost reached the end of this endless train and you used my  _ tail _ to bind my legs and scream in my face, spit flying everywhere.”

“Shut up,” Laurens snaps. “See, this is what I mean. Just let me talk, goddammit.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“I hate him. So much. I hate him more than I hate you.”

“And?”

Laurens sighs again, annoyed. “I’ll fucking side with you, you insufferable ass.”

“Thank you,” Thomas says, dropping the sarcasm. “I appreciate your support.”

“Yeah yeah,” Laurens grumbles, waving a hand. “You can leave now.”

Thomas laughs, tips his hat and bows. “ _ Adieu, monsieur. _ ” 

He vanishes. 

* * *

 

Thomas inhales, grips the table. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven -

Flashes of memories of Alex (Burr) pinned to a wall face turned away tears running down his cheeks mantra of nonono escaping his swollen lips - 

Regret. Inexcusable. His mind is a mess.

Ten. Break. Exhale. Brush the clutter to the corner. Four. Five.

Alex and Burr and the look they’d exchanged - telling. Too soft. 

Eight. Nine. Lover’s touch. 

The table goes  _ CRACK, _ like a gunshot, but Thomas doesn’t flinch. 

Ten. Break. Inhale. Two. Three. Alex, Alex, Alex. 

What does Burr have that he doesn’t? What makes Burr a better choice than Thomas?

Will Alex side with Burr?

Why would Alex side with Burr? 

Out of anyone on the train, why Burr?

Why is he never enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS AND KUDOS ARE SUPER APPRECIATED!!!!
> 
> POLL: sequel or prequel??? pls make our decisions for us lmao
> 
> ALSO a buddy of ours is doing a Hamilton Fic Exchange!!! Pls pls join it! Sign ups close by November 1st, just go [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Hamilton_Gift_Exchange_2k16/profile) to sign up!


	9. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plan is to fan this spark into a flame, i'm watching it burn from the sidelines in shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will you join me for a spot of pain?
> 
> pls heed the tags
> 
> (im not as good at summaries as lance so sue me)

Alex stumbles into the next car, legs shaky and heart still beating out a quick rhythm in his chest.

He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he trips, strong hands catching him. He freezes for a moment, mind racing. Thomas just left with Philip, he couldn’t be back so soon.

But then Burr is pulling him to his feet, concerned gaze meeting his. He’s wavering between himself and Alex’s mother, when his form solidifies as a thin waifish figures, hair falling gently over his shoulders.

His fingers clutch at Burr’s arms and he thinks vaguely that it must be painful, it  _ must _ and that Burr shouldn’t have to deal with him really -

“Alex.” His voice is soft and Alex falls into it with as much ease as someone might have falling into a pile of fluffy cushions. He doesn’t particularly want to come out of it, white noise in his ears and eyes heavy when Aaron shakes at his shoulder, his voice worried now.

“Alex, what happened, why are you alone?” 

“Thomas-” his voice slurs and he lets out a breathy laugh and Aaron tries and fails to maneuver them more securely onto one of the booths.

“Thomas wasn’t happy, not very happy. Nope. A bad thing happened to Philip I made it worse and he has to fix it now.” He nods in quick succession and he can feel Burr’s fingers tighten on his arms but he finds that he doesn’t really care.

Numbness is still coursing through his veins laced with ice and chill and frost. And he thinks that if he breathes, cold would fill his mouth and freeze his tongue.

A laugh bubbles up at the back of his throat at that and he slips further, hands loosening on their tight grasp of Aaron.

“What happened to Philip?”

Alex hears Burr, but it’s as if it’s through a haze of...something. 

“Alex.  _ Alex. _ ” When Burr repeats his name, he fills it with a sparking urgency and Alex jerks, almost sliding off the seat.

“Blood.” He blurts out, images of red and blue and purple flashing behind his eyelids. “He was bleeding and I was bleeding and they mixed.”

Burr’s sharp intake of breath is soft but Alex still hears in the frozen silence of the car.

He turns his head to look, worry sinking its claws into his heart and catching his breath. “What? What’s wrong, is Philip not going to be okay? Did I do something bad? I didn’t know the blood would  _ mix- _ ”

“Alex.” Burr’s voice is still steady, even as his face is contorting in an expression of worry. “Alex, it isn’t anything to worry about. Thomas is taking care of him right? As much as I dislike him, he knows what he’s doing. It’s just a contamination. It doesn’t sound like it spread too far…”

Alex leans closer, eyes searching Burrs. “What happens if it spreads too far?”

Aaron is reluctant to answer, eyes skittering away and not meeting his, but Alex persists in asking until he gives in. His voice is quiet, and he stares down at the table, refusing to meet Alex’s gaze.

“I… I haven’t seen it happen to a non-human but when Th... a human I knew got a cut on her arm-” He’s staring fixedly down at the table now, hands clenching and unclenching on the surface of it. “A fae’s blood got into it.”

His lips curve into a weak smile but his eyes are blank. “No one noticed. I didn’t notice. Until she started talking about hearing everyone’s thoughts in her head and not being able to sleep or eat because she thought everything was trying to poison her.”

Alex’s heart drops into his stomach as his mind pushes him to an unwanted conclusion. He speaks carefully, afraid that one wrong word would tip over this precarious house of cards.

“Aaron. This person. Is it-”

The door at the other end of the train car slams open and they both jerk up. Theo stands there, her wiry frame tense with nervous energy.

“Aaron, Alex, precious though you are, you’ve got to see the things happening in this car!” 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Alex sees Aaron take a breath before standing up, getting blurry for a second, like a camera going out of focus, before changing once again to look like himself.

Theo tugs at their hands. Aaron winces - stumbles - he’s limping. Alex stops, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Aaron shake his head - an unspoken “it’s fine.” But it’s not - it’s not because Thomas did that - Thomas hurt him, Thomas hurt him because he looked like -

“Alex.” Aaron grips Alex’s arms and Alex breathes deeply. “Alex. We need to go.”

Alex nods, and when he turns to Theodosia is hovering, urgent, his hand slips into Aaron’s. Together they hurry through the strangely empty cars, until they stumble into one that’s almost too full.

Alex winces as creatures press and whisper, the air in the car sparking with urgency and the rank stench of  _ fear _ .

Theo’s grip on his hand is tight as she leads them carefully through the crowd, until they finally,  _ finally _ stumble out.

In the middle of the ring that’s been made in the car, two figures prowl around each other, like large predatory cats. 

Thomas is clearly angry, face twisted in disgust as he shouts at the figure opposite him, who is standing lazily, a sneer curling the corner of his lip.

It’s the King.

He’s almost painfully nonchalant, unresponsive to all of the insults that Thomas is tossing at him, about being a pretender, a sham, a coward who likes to talk big.

As his eyes stray away, they catch on a slight figure cowering beside Thomas, curly hair falling over his face as he tries to make himself as small as possible.

He can’t help but reach out a hand, to beckon him over, when Aaron quickly pulls it down. But he’s been noticed, and he suddenly feels the urge to run, run away very quickly from the two sharp gazes staring him down.

He sees something flash across the King’s eyes, and a smirk curve his lips before -

Thomas shouts.

Blue hits the floor.

The King doesn’t move at all.

The crowd heaves and the volume gains as people push forward, trying to see the small, crumpled figure on the ground. Alex breaks free from the tight grasp that Theo and Aaron have on his arm, hurtling forward, to kneel at the side of the young nymph.

“Philip. Philip say something please you’re alive aren’t you? Right?”

His hands flutter over the prone body, and he’s too afraid to touch, remembering the too-cold skin of his mother and beating of a heart coming to a stop.

Alex’s eyes are drawn to the blood splattered over the floor, and he can feel his throat tighten up at the sight of it, and he presses a hand to his mouth, sees the tears blurring his eyes.

A warm, heavy hand places itself on his shoulder and he leans into it before scrambling away, heart beating quickly, panicked. He realises he’s shaking as he pushes himself to his feet, eyes wide as he stares at Thomas.

“Don’t  _ touch  _ me.” He says and he hates how his voice shakes, hates how it cracks high, hates how it shudders and trembles letting everyone know how frail he feels.

Thomas looks confused and Alex’s insides coil in disgust.

“You just  _ killed _ him! A  _ child _ .” He points with a shaking hand but there’s a bite to his words now. “What did you get bored of him? Is that what happens when you decide that someone isn’t worth your attention anymore-” His breath catches and he scrubs at his eyes.

“I-I can’t be here.” Turning, he pushes his way through the crowd and throws the door open, eyes stinging as the wind clutches at his face, his clothes, his hair.

He stumbles into the car and falls into nearest booth, eyes cracking open to warily watch the door. He’d gotten lucky so far - 

The door behind him creaks open.

He bites back a groan of despair, and doesn’t turn around just in case the being didn’t notice him.  _ Just like last time _ , he thinks.  _ Why did I not learn? _

“Darlin’,” He hears, the southern drawl throaty and curling around the edges in the voice - reminding Alex of Thomas despite the higher timbre. “I’m sorry to bother you, but -”

Alex swallows as breath whispers over his ear, and strands of curly hair brush against his neck. 

“I need some help, you see.” Her hand curls under Alex’s chin, long nails resting delicately on the skin, though Alex can tell by the light touch how sharp they really are. She turns his head and he swallows as he meets her hooded eyes.

Her lips are curled into a smirk, the red stark against her skin. Endless curls fall over her shoulders and he feels his throat go dry as she gazes at him, a cat with a mouse caught under her paw. 

She strokes a thumb over his cheek and tilts her head, eyes suddenly pitying and mouth pouting. 

“I heard that Thomas…” He jolts at the mention, but she continues speaking. “...Doesn’t like his little puppy anymore…” Her voice almost seems to deepen and he closes his eyes, letting it wash around him. Her other hand came up to stroke languidly through his hair and he leaned his head into it. “I heard Thomas doesn’t give him treats anymore.” Her voice is full of sympathy, and he leans back as she pushes gently at his shoulders, loose and pliant.

“Don’t worry darlin’ - I’m here now.” And then she’s pressing forward, soft lips against his, and he his mouth falls open with a gasp. Her lips are slow-moving and coaxing, and he leans into the kiss, presses his whole being into the feeling of being surrounded in warmth.

He can feel her lips curl into a smile on his as she tilts her head, pushing for  _ more _ . He can feel his limbs becoming looser, and he doesn’t - can’t - protest as she sits in his lap, tilting his head up with a touch of her hand. 

Alex doesn’t know how long he’s there, feeling more and more exhausted with every kiss that’s pulled out of him.

“Damn,” She breathes into his mouth. He blinks up at her slowly, unable to react more. He thinks about moving, but immediately dismisses the notion.  _ It’s so nice here… _ “No wonder Thomas is so possessive. Your mouth is heavenly, darlin’. And that from a succubus -”

“Why is it that whenever I leave you for five seconds -”

The woman yelps, and flies off Alex to crash onto the table across the aisle. 

“- I come back to find you kissing someone?” Thomas is glaring, angry. It makes for a coiling mixture of fear and disgust in his stomach.

Alex tries to move, to speak, but his body is too sluggish to do anything but stare and blink stupidly. He can’t think. He can’t  _ think _ , Thomas did something - Thomas did something - Philip - what happened?  _ What happened? _

Thomas sighs. “How much did you drain from him, Reynolds?”

“Don’t call me that,” The woman spits. “Maria. Mar. Eye. Uh.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, and clenches his hand in a fist, before jerking it back. Maria screams, arching off the table she’s lying on as light pours from her mouth and eyes. Some of the energy flits around, before swimming to Thomas and shoving themselves into his closed fist. He waves his free hand when he appears satisfied, and Maria slumps back to the surface. 

Thomas brings his hand to his face quickly, running it down from his nose to his chin, uncurling the fist as it passes his open mouth. His eyes flutter closed as it filters in and Alex stares at the moment of bliss apparent on his face.

When he lowers his arm, the energy is gone.

“Everything is transferred via mouth,” He complains, stalking to Alex. “Deals. Life. Souls. Why mouth?” He tilts Alex’s head much like Maria had done, and quickly presses his lips to Alex’s, licking at them until Alex allows them to part. He exhales carefully, and Alex feels a warmth spread from his throat down through his body - his lungs first, then outwards from there. And he - remembers. Philip. Dead. Just as it tingles the tips of his fingers Thomas pulls away, scowling. “Reynolds, as a succubus, has the vocal version of Lafayette’s visual shifting abilities - changing her voice to what her victim’s ideal person sounds like. That said, it’s not perfect and it’s easier to see through than Burr’s. Stand, puppy. You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood - Laurens finally chose a fucking side, and it wasn’t the pretender’s.”

Alex is surprised to find that he  _ can _ stand, and scowls mutinously at Thomas even as he obeys. The kiss they shared is just like the deal sealing -  _ it means nothing. Nothing _ , he reminds himself.  _ And you don’t want it to. He killed Philip. You aren’t allowed to feel anything for him anymore. _

“Come here.”

The drag of his feet is almost akin to the weight rested on his shoulders as he’d been forced to crawl. Every step feels as if the world is pressing into his front, forcing him back, saying  _ don’t do that _ . 

Thomas snaps his fingers, and Alex feels something heavy fall into place around his neck - soft on his skin, some kind of fur. His breath hitches as he realizes what it is, mind unwittingly bringing up images from a few cars previous, of the humans kneeling on the floor. Thomas hands something to Alex, and Alex is stunned enough by the feeling that he almost doesn’t realize what it is, before the surface catches and reflects a little bit of light into his eyes.  _ A mirror. _

The collar is green.

Alex swallows, winces at the tug of the material against his throat. It’s bright green, with darker stitching. The fur lining the inner side is an inky black, shot through with strands of gold. A heavy black clasp digs into the skin at the back of his neck, though it doesn’t seem to have much of an opening-closing function. The decorations… 

Black studs and small metal spikes are scattered along the length of it, in all its inch thick glory. The front, in thick metal lettering, declares simply -  _ puppy. _

Alex takes a shaky breath. The mirror dissolves in his palm, and he closes his eyes. 

“ _ Darlin’, _ ” Thomas breathes, tilting up Alex’s chin to get a better look at the strap of green leather. Alex feels a shiver ripple through his body at the word. He hates how much he misses Thomas saying it. “You look absolutely  _ ravishing. _ ”

Alex pulls his face back, extracting his chin from Thomas’ grip. He shakes his head so his hair falls in a curtain in his face, using it to hide. His heart beats quicker, a crescendo of percussion as a choir sings a screaming verse in his ears, testimony to his sudden aching  _ fear.  _

Thomas laughs. “Shy, puppy?”

“Mm,” Alex says noncommittally, unwilling to give a concrete answer. He forces down the bile that rises as he stays put, unmoving. Looking at the monster in front of him. 

Thomas waves his hand. “I have to escort Mrs. Reynolds off the train, I’ll be back soon.” Thomas hooks a finger in the ring at the front of the collar and tugs Alex closer, slamming their lips together in a bruising kiss - something completely unlike the soul transferring one. This is harsh and more teeth and tongue than lips, and Alex wants to pull away but he can’t because the leather is already pulled taut at the back of his neck and Thomas isn’t giving him an inch. 

“Be good,” is the last thing he hears, and then Thomas is gone and Alex is pitching forward, catching himself only barely.

“Okay,” he says. 

An indiscernible time later he gives up with the clasp, and turns back to the previous car, hoping Aaron is still there.

“Alex?” Aaron asks, surprised, before his eyes fall to the collar and darken. “Oh.”

“Please get it off,” Alex says, trying to hide the desperation in his voice and failing. “ _ Please,  _ Aaron.” The emotion he’d been trying to suppress begins climbing his throat, and his lip wobbles as horror and terror overwhelm him, before even they are trumped by a total and absolute  _ helplessness _ . Aaron’s jaw clenches as he stares at Alex before nodding jerkily. 

Aaron makes several attemps, both with swirling energy around his fingers and physically trying to cut it off, but it stays there, stubbornly. 

“I can’t,” He says eventually. He bites his lip too hard, and Alex resists the urge to step forward and swipe at the blood with the pad of his thumb. “I can’t take it off. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for trying,” Alex says. He doesn’t say it’s fine, because it’s not. Aaron knows. “Can I talk to the King?” He swallows. “John Laurens has chosen a side, and.” He hesitates, before saying firmly, “I’m ready.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, and pulls Alex in for a hug. Alex tenses, before relaxing slightly, hands coming up to rest tentatively on Aaron’s shoulders. “Yeah. Of course.”

* * *

The King is thrilled. “This information is most valuable, Alex, thank you. Laurens was going to continue to lead us on, however now we can get the upper hand on him.”

Alex smiles grimly. “And you’re sure you can’t do anything to remove the collar?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid,” The King says apologetically. “But before we kill him, we’ll force him to take it off you. I swear on the life of my - I swear on my life.”

“Thanks,” Alex says, making note of the almost slip. 

“There is someone I’d like you to meet - I believe you met his wife? James Reynolds is human, much like you, though he has extraordinary magic I’ve only ever seen non-humans use.”

A man with short, dark hair and a tight-around-the-edges smile steps out of the half-shadows he’d been hiding in. Energy seems to crackle in the air around him and as he stretches out a hand Alex can see dark runes staining the skin of his arm. “Pleasure. Alex, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, shaking the proffered hand. “That’s me.”

There’s a crackle of something, and Alex yanks his arm close to his body in shock. 

“Sorry,” Reynolds says, lifting his hand - white sparking flares of electricity dance in between the spaces of his fingers, wild and dangerous, with no semblance of restraint. “I can’t control it much.” Alex eyes him warily as the small bolts start to quiet, lacing themselves back into his skin.

“Speaking of Maria,” the King says. “Where did she go?”

“Thomas said something about banishing her,” Alex says slowly, unwilling to agitate either of them. “She tried to - to drain my soul? I think?”

Reynolds tenses. “She tried to drain your soul?”

“He gets possessive,” The King says, rolling his eyes, and Alex can see Reynolds’ hands clench at the condescending tone in his words. “He doesn’t understand how succubi work.”

“Surely they don’t  _ need _ -” He’s trying to keep himself under control but Alex can hear the anger threading itself under his voice.

“Yes, they do.” It’s a lazy interjection.

“It’s more of a want than -” It sounds as if they’ve talked about this before, but his voice is still wheedling and full of confidence as if he just knows that he’s right.

“No, it’s not.”

“But -”

“ _ Reynolds _ ,” The King says, and there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice that promises to be something much  _ more _ if he persists. 

“Sorry, your majesty,” Reynolds says from behind gritted teeth. 

Alex swallows. 

His throat tightens as their eyes meet and he straightens as Reynolds almost sizes him up, gaze pausing at the collar still sitting around his neck. Indignation crawls under his skin at the immediate curl of Reynolds’ lip, an expression of contempt settling in his gaze.

“So you  _ are _ Thomas’ pet huh? Wow. What a life that must be.” He’s still angry, Alex can tell, and he wonders if he ever isn’t. He thinks of the haunted look in Maria’s eyes when Thomas had pushed her away from him, how she’d curled into herself.

He decides he doesn’t like James Reynolds.

Reynolds crosses his arms, and Alex shifts his weight onto his heels as the shadows seem to shift and move behind him.

“So. What’s it like.” His tone is carefully controlled, but the energy sparking between the words makes Alex wary.

“What is… what like?”

“Getting your soul drained.” It’s painfully blunt and Alex furrows his brow.

“Haven’t you-”

“Had it done to me?” He barks out a short laugh and spreads his arms. “Can’t. There’s too much… stuff inside me. It’d burn her out y’see.”

Alex nods slowly, but his insides curl at the almost hungry look in James’ eyes.

“I mean it feels like… like everything fades away, and all you can think about is her and you just get so tired-”

“I didn’t fuckin’ ask for poetry did I?” His voice is suddenly biting but Alex refuses to let himself flinch, meeting his gaze head on.

“That’s the only way I can describe so if you wanted a better explanation why don’t you ask some other poor soul you’ve manipulated-”

James starts forward but he’s stopped by the King’s voice cutting sharp between the both of them.

“Gentleman! I’d like some peace and quiet you’re frightening my guest.”

Alex looks over to see a slim figure hovering behind the King, fingers tangled and eyes lowered.

Reynolds steps back, eyes still hard and muttering angrily. 

Aaron steps forward, and Alex lets out a breath as their fingers interlock, a small sense of steady reassurance coming with it.

“Watch him,” Aaron says quietly, and Alex locks his eyes on the small figure on the King’s lap.

The King dips his head a little, nuzzling his face into the figure’s neck, reminding Alex uncomfortably of Thomas. 

“No one here fights for the rights of humans,” Aaron murmurs. “That’s Sam. Samuel Seabury. He’s been on the train for a week.”

“Human?”

“George’s ‘pet’,” Aaron replies, his expression twisting to disdain at the word. “He isn’t drugged, but vampires have a natural sedative and aphrodisiac they release through bites. To my knowledge, Von Steuben refrains from using it - his boys are drug free - but George almost uses too much. The poor boy wanders around dazed, not even noticing the holes in his neck.”

“I thought you said King George is good,” Alex hisses. 

“He’s better than Thomas,” Aaron shoots back. 

Alex remembers Aaron - slumped against the wall on the ground, eyes dead, whispering,  _ Thomas. _ An aftermath of something unspeakable, something Alex has been repressing, but since the collar -

He swallows. “Yeah,” He says. “But then again… anyone is.”

* * *

_ King George jabs a finger at a piece of paper depicting a train. “Jefferson’s five most powerful supporters are Lafayette, Laurens, Washington, the Baron, and Dolley Todd - in that order. We start to pick them off one by one, and they won’t see the final wave. One minor speed bump we couldn’t account for has been taken care of - our lovely Alex knows of the Valkyrie’s location.” _

“Dolley!” Alex calls, waving. 

Dolley turns, startled, wings tense and high behind her. When she sees Alex, they lower and she relaxes. “Alex. You do know a war has started, right? It’s not safe -” She catches sight of the collar. “What the fuck is that?”

“You called me Thomas’ pet the last time we met,” Alex says darkly. “Apparently it was an apt observation.”

“I’m sorry,” She says, and she does genuinely look that way. 

“What have you been doing?”

“Watching the Phantom Car as it fades,” She says. “A lot of cars are specifically tailored to a being, so once the being dies, the car dies too. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Oh,” He hears behind him, and turns to see a familiar face. “It’s  _ you _ .”

“Angelica,” Alex says, startled, and he’s about to say something - beg her to help him off the train, apologize for not going with her before - when she interrupts. 

“I’m not here for you.”

He watches, startled, as she stalks past him, embracing Dolley tightly. “Philip is dead,” She says quietly. “KG3 killed him.”

“Thomas killed him,” Alex says, annoyed. “I was  _ there _ , I saw -”

“What you saw was an illusion, like Burr’s shifting. Georgie let you see what you  _ wanted  _ to see.”

“Have you seen Seabury?” Dolley cuts in. “Did anyone tell you about the state he’s in?”

“I - yeah, but -”

“Someone like Georgie,” Angelica says, “Someone who would do something like that to a human,  _ that _ is the kind of person you never trust.”

“Thomas does it too -”

“Thomas,” Angelica says, and sighs. “Thomas isn’t exactly a good  _ comparison _ .”

“It’s like that would you rather question,” Dolley says. “Would you rather freeze to death in the middle of a frozen tundra, or burn in the heart of a wildfire? You really want neither, but you have to answer because in this scenario you aren’t given an out. Thomas is the tundra - he’s so cold he bites and nips and gets on your nerves, a potential for deadliness woven into a serene image of calm beauty. Georgie is the fire - pretending to be bigger and better than he is, showing off and burning quick and fast, a mesmerizing sight until you step too close and get hurt. You have to choose. You’ll die either way, in the analogy at least, but you  _ have to chose wisely _ .”

“The tundra,” Angelica says, answering the question Dolley had posed. “You go numb after a while. You can’t feel anything as the cold slowly digs its claws into your skin, consuming you.”

Dolley smiles grimly, but doesn’t show agreement - or disagreement. “Just think about it, Alex.”

“I have,” He says. “I have. And I’m sorry.”

Dolley tenses, and Angelica lifts her hand slightly, as if guarding something. Alex spots the piece of wood she’d been carrying earlier, and remembers what someone had said about nymphs and their life forces, so long ago.  _ They’re tied. _ If the wood is destroyed, Angelica dies. 

The car is small. Alex is conscious of that, of the space around him. He thinks about the King. “Sorry,” He repeats. “But you’re siding with Thomas, aren’t you?” A nod is his answer. They don’t move, likely more out of shock than anything. “I’m sorry.”

There’s only a split second between the doors opening and the ray of light that bursts from that direction. Alex dives out of the way, expecting it, but neither Dolley nor Angelica react quick enough. 

A body hits the floor - Dolley. Angelica is still standing, but she’s dazed, and then someone - a nameless lackey - is pinning her to the wall as Reynolds sweeps in, looking down his nose at the scene, and unscrewing a large can. “Hold her up,” He says, flicking a finger at Dolley’s prone figure. 

He turns to Angelica, ignoring Alex completely. “Schuyler.”

“Reynolds,” She spits.

“As much as I dislike being used as a messenger, the King would like you to hear something. A formal invite to switch sides. A final chance.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Angelica says. “I don’t want your shitty deal.”

“Alright then,” Reynolds says, smug. He upturns the can and starts spreading the liquid. “I guess you get to die, then.”

Dolley groans, stirring to consciousness, and Alex avoids her eyes as Reynolds turns. “Ah, yes. The Valkyrie.”

“She won’t agree to your deal either!” Angelica shouts.

Reynolds doesn’t stop walking. “She was never to  _ be _ included. The King wants her dead, babe. And so she shall be.”

Alex doesn’t see Angelica break out of the lackey’s hold, but somehow she does and she’s at Reynolds  _ quickly _ , pulling back a fist and swinging, hard. Her knuckles crash against his skull, and he goes down with a yowl of pain. “RESTRAIN HER!”

They succeed in this, eventually, Reynolds still on the floor, gingerly poking his nose. “I suppose you get the pleasure,” He says to Dolley, “Of watching your girlfriend die. Something Jefferson deprived  _ me _ of.”

“How is that a pleasure?” Angelica demands. She tries to shake out of the lackey’s hold. It fails. 

Reynolds snags the piece of wood as he walks by, spreading more of whatever is in the can, and Angelica tenses. “Give that back!”

“I don’t think I will,” Reynolds says. He picks a lighter out of his pocket, flips it open and closed a few times. Pretends to light a cigarette and shakes his fingers, held in a peace sign, as they come too close to the flame. Angelica flinches when he waves the lighter too close to the wood, and Alex smells something charcoal-y, almost…

“Whoops,” Reynolds says. 

He drops the wood, and the lighter on top of it, almost a full second later. “My hand slipped.”

“No,” Dolley says, and now she’s struggling even harder than Angelica. 

The lackey holding Angelica lets go quickly, as her skin gradually becomes redder and redder, and steam hisses, rising. Perspiration gathers along Angelica’s body, and she stares into Dolley’s eyes in horror because there’s nothing either of them can do. 

The wood catches fire. 

“ _ NO! _ ” 

The anguished scream ripped from Dolley’s throat makes Alex wince. He turns away, unable to watch any longer. “Let’s go,” He says to Reynolds, who nods. 

“Leave!” Reynolds calls to the lackeys. 

It’s almost one of the magical scenes you see in movies, Alex thinks, turning back once more before he gets to the door. Dolley and Angelica are kneeling in the middle of the red-carpeted car, both of Dolley’s hands grasping Angelica’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she screams,  _ please no, please no, please NO! _

Angelica isn’t making a sound, hasn’t made a sound. Her skin is starting to blacken, flames rippling and licking up from her body. Dolley’s hands are burning, and a spark has caught on her sleeve. 

One of the flames gets a little too big, then. 

It catches on some of the liquid Reynolds had dropped. Alex glances at the can, reads “gaso-” before tearing his eyes away. The car begins smelling of more of the burning - charcoal and smoke. The fire spreads quickly, then. 

“I love you,” He hears Dolley choke out through her sobs, and Angelica doesn’t respond, isn’t  _ able to respond _ , but she lifts her head, reaches up a hand, and their lips collide just as the rest of the car sets aflame in a  _ whoom- _ like sound. 

“Hamilton!” Reynolds calls from the door. Alex pulls his attention away and runs the rest of the distance to the door. 

“I can shut it,” He says. Reynolds nods, and gives the others the go ahead. 

Alex swallows, and watches, quietly, as the two of them embrace, locked into each other in a way so intense that it brings shame to the light of the fire. Dolley’s wings dip too low, and fire begins stroking its way up the feathers. She doesn’t wince, doesn’t flinch at all. 

They don’t part. They seem to combine into one as Alex watches, fire caressing their bodies and kissing their skin as intently as they kiss each other. 

The flames rise further, blocking what he sees of them. He closes his eyes.

He shuts the door. 

The smell of smoke lingers on his clothes, in his skin, in his hair, chokes his throat and coats the back of his teeth in its bitterness. He makes his way back to the King, dazed, because.

This is a war. 

This is a war and it has only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont forget to sign up for kookookarli's hamilton fic gift exchange ;;; )))))  
> thank you for reading!!! pls comment we l i v e off comments <3 <3


	10. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loyal to the crown there's no choice but death, wait to see his final breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: slurs, the catcalling kind? and explicit sexual content.

“Dolley is down,” Thomas growls, landing next to Laurens. There’s anger broiling inside of him and it throws off his magic, making his landing clumsy with the overuse of power.

“Fuck,” Laurens exhales in a long breath before turning to face him. “Who got her?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas snaps, pushing a hand into his hair. “I can’t fucking tell.”

“I thought you were all powerful, Jefferson. Or so you tell literally everyone you meet.”

Thomas ignores the snark in Laurens’ voice. “The car was burnt down, and with Dolley’s death it disappeared. I checked the two cars on either side, but there was no trace of any non-human being.”

“Did you not consider -”

“I did, but I can’t distinguish human soul-trails. You know that.”

“Well,” Laurens says smugly. “ _ I _ can.”

“You’re kidding.”

“‘Course not. Now isn’t the time for jokes, Jefferson.” Laurens snaps his fingers, and together they disappear and land in a small deserted dining car. “This is probably the way they exited.” He stands there, stiffly, as Thomas slowly moves around the room.

“Wait,” Laurens says suddenly. He squints, and Thomas observes his wings twitch on the astral plane, space bending and shifting with every movement of the starry feathers. His index finger moving with them. “Move left.”

Thomas bites back a comment about where Laurens can shove his demands. Laurens is the only one Thomas knows who will be able to sense the humans and accurately identify them, so instead he complies. Reluctantly. 

Laurens waves a hand, and slowly little wisps of magic curl from his fingertips, forming runes and shapes in glowing white light. His eyes shine over with gold before he blinks and it dissipates once more. “Reynolds,” He says, and dispels the magic with a flick of his wrist. “James Reynolds.”

“The mage?”

“Apparently,” Laurens says snidely. “He was the one who bound Maria to him, wasn’t he?”

“Oh,” Thomas says. 

Laurens raises an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“She kissed Alex,” Thomas says petulantly. 

Laurens sighs. “Jefferson…”

“We aren’t here to discuss my policy on humans,” Thomas snaps. “Was it just Reynolds?”

Laurens hesitates, waves a hand and stares at the wavering outline of the runes, much more dim than they were before. “Yes,” He says finally. “Him and a few other nameless non-humans, though you probably picked up on them.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “I figured the Pretender wouldn’t send just nameless minions after someone like Dolley.”

“Why do you call him that?” Laurens asks, curiously. 

Thomas furrows his brow. “He insists his ‘subjects’ call him King,” He says, and sets his jaw. “He thinks he’s better than everyone else, thinks he’s destined to rule something big.”

Laurens hums thoughtfully. 

They stand there for a moment, an odd camaraderie between demon and angel. 

“You collared him.” Laurens states this more than he asks. They hadn’t been talking about Alex previous, but Laurens’ tone made it obvious that he was now.

“Yes,” Thomas admits, eyes daring Laurens to comment. 

Laurens sighs. “You’re not inspiring a very loyal pet,” He says. “You succeeded in making him fall for you before, but now you’re disillusioning him.”

“James’ amulet lets him see through -”

“You didn’t have to let him keep it,” Laurens says. “You have ultimate power over his actions.”

“I was maybe a little bit too sentimental,” Thomas mutters, and sweeps towards the door. “I have to go find him.”

“Did you seriously leave him alone again?” Laurens demands, catching up quickly. “Do you have no regard for -”

Thomas groans quietly, and resigns himself to Laurens’ nagging. 

* * *

 

“ _ Next is Lafayette, _ ”  _ King George says. “Be careful. They’re quite tricky. Nothing lethal to an incubus can enter or leave their car - and none of us will make it inside. You're on your own, I’m afraid.” _

Alex hurries back to Lafayette’s car, hoping to catch him alone. His hand pauses at the handle, and he turns. “Would it be…” He swallows, and thinks of the human from before jumping from the door, a gaping mouth threatening to close. They were silent as they fell, didn’t make a sound as they hit the ground. Would such a fate be less painful, perhaps, than whatever awaited him at the end of this battle? 

He turns the handle, trying to distance himself from his thoughts. 

And succeeding when he hears the quiet slap of skin on skin. 

“Shit,” Alex mutters, and tries to back out again and close the door, but it gives off a muted squeal that promises a louder one to follow if Alex continues moving it. 

He’s effectively trapped, if he doesn’t want to leave the door gaping wide.

Which he doesn’t, because he respects Hercules a little more than that.

And the figure moving up and down frantically - straddling another in a chair -  _ is _ Hercules. Alex recognizes him, despite the sheen of sweat dripping down his face, the torn expression - agonized but blissful, something carnal about it - the whole scene, even. The car is as extravagant as before, but the lighting has dimmed. There’s an air about them - hot and wet and humid and  _ suffocating _ , pushing down on Alex’s sternum until he struggles to breathe, struggles to lift his chest. This is private, he knows. He’s going to get caught and punished if he stays, but the way Hercules moves enraptures him, makes him want to stray closer and carefully tongue the perspiration off his temple. 

“ _Merde_ ,” Alex hears, the voice choked and breathless. He jerks back further, because that’s - that’s Lafayette, and he needs to _get_ _out of here, now_. “ _Continue comme ça,_ ” they groan. “ _Tu me rends fou, minou._ ”

Alex winces, and wishes he could turn off the French-understanding part of his brain. 

“ _ Prends-moi, _ ” Hercules mumbles, hooking his arms behind Lafayette’s head. They hum, before capturing Hercules’ lips with their own, the two bumping noses and both moaning into each others’ mouths as Hercules visibly hitches upwards with Lafayette’s movements every few seconds. 

“ _ Faire demi-tour _ ,” Lafayette says.

And Alex decides then - as Hercules stands, turns, and bends over - that fuck it, he’ll leave the goddamn door. 

He turns and runs straight into Thomas. “Puppy,” Thomas murmurs, hooking two fingers in the D ring of the collar, and goddammit does he have the worst timing.

Alex opens his mouth, goes to say something, but Thomas presses the index finger of his free hand to Alex’s lips. “Shh,” He says, and tilts his chin towards the inside of the car. He turns Alex’s head, and Alex is forced to turn back around with his body.

Lafayette and Hercules haven’t noticed them yet. 

“Keep your eyes on them,” Thomas says, breathing into Alex’s ear. “Watch Hercules. Watch Laf.” 

They’ve rejoined, and their pants are audible even by the entrance to the car. 

“They look so pretty together, don’t they?” Thomas whispers, and presses up behind Alex, letting go of the ring in favor of gripping Alex’s hips in a bruising hold. “Tell me, puppy,” He dips his head to nuzzle Alex’s neck, “Would you like me to fuck you like that?”

A full body shiver wracks through Alex’s frame, and he shoves down the urge to rip himself away from Thomas’ arms.  _ Keep up the façade _ , he thinks.  _ Just a little while longer. _ He resolutely does not think about the tear tracks across Aaron’s cheeks, the way he winced as he walked. 

“That’s not an answer,” Thomas says, and Alex shudders again at the feel of something that is  _ definitely not a gun _ right against his ass. 

“Yeah,” Alex lies, whimpering as soft as he can. “Yeah.”

Lafayette and Hercules let out cries at the same time, and for a moment everything is quiet as they struggle to reclothe themselves, before -

“ _ Je crois que je t’aime, _ ” Hercules whispers. 

Thomas jerks away from Alex, startled. Alex stares, equally surprised, though neither of them react as violently as Lafayette. 

They pull back, unwrapping their arms from Hercules. “ _ Pardon? _ ” Their voice is incredulous, as if they never could have believed that he thought this. 

Hercules withdraws into himself, and Alex can see - he’s terrified. “ _ Desolé _ ,” he says, and tries to move back, but Lafayette catches his wrist. 

“Tell me what you said,” They demand, in English. 

“ _ Je - _ ”

“ _ En Anglais, minou. _ ”

“I -” Hercules swallows. Closes his mouth, and refuses to speak. 

Lafayette’s eyes harden, and they pull him closer. “ _ Dîtes-moi _ ,” they snarl, anger obvious.

“I think I love you,” Hercules whispers. 

It’s the most Alex has heard him say in one sitting. 

“Laf,” Thomas says loudly, as said person is raising their hand, as if to deliver a slap. 

Lafayette whirls around, but the pissed-off expression dissipates as they sees who it is. “Ah, Thomas.  _ Desolé. _ ”

“It’s fine,” Thomas says. Steps forward, pulling Alex with him. “You’ve been well?”

“Yes,” Lafayette says. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough,” Thomas says, glancing at Hercules, who sinks back into the wall. 

“Hm,” Lafayette says. 

Alex tries not to think about what was  _ just happening _ . Thomas passes it off normally, how does he even…?

“Laurens found the human who torched Dolley’s car,” Thomas says.

Alex’s heart immediately speeds up.  _ They don’t know, they can’t know. _

“Who?” Lafayette asks. Hercules’ gaze flickers to Alex, who doesn’t know what to do, but  _ they can’t know _ .

“James Reynolds,” Thomas says, and Alex nearly cries with relief. They don’t know. 

If he weren’t alone, maybe he’d be ok. If he weren’t alone in a room with two of the most powerful beings on the other side of the war. 

“Laurens says there was no one else, but he hesitated long enough that I don’t believe him,” Thomas says. “There was another human, but if I can’t get an answer out of him, I won’t get an answer from anyone.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Lafayette promises. 

“Someone said my name?” Laurens pops into the room with a beat of his wings. 

“John!” Lafayette smiles, and Alex can’t push away the small voice whispering  _ ‘It’s fake” _ . “You’ve finally seen reason?”

“KG3 crossed a line,” Laurens says darkly. “A line he should  _ not  _ have crossed.”

“Death of a child,” Lafayette murmurs in agreement.

Alex can feel the frustration building up inside of himself, along with the want to speak up, but knows Thomas will be pissed if he does. 

Lafayette glances at him as he shifts, and then to Hercules, who looks like he’s still trying to become one with the wall. “Kiss him,” they say. They blink innocently at Thomas. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Laf,” Laurens says, but quiets with a glare from Lafayette. 

“Fine,” Thomas says, and Alex turns his head to look at him with wide eyes, but can’t get anything from his neutral expression . 

Alex screams internally,  _ you liar!  _ Thinking back to the Phantom Car, what feels like ages ago, where Thomas said he’d  _ never let that happen. _ Thomas releases his hold on Alex, who looks to Laurens for some sort of reprieve. Laurens doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Sorry,” Hercules whispers, and carefully, carefully, connects their mouths. He has to lean down, and Alex almost has to stand on his tip toes. 

“So pretty,” Lafayette says from behind him, and there’s a cruel twist to his voice that makes Alex’s blood run cold. He resists the urge to yank away and punch them. “Beautiful.”

Thomas hums in agreement.

Hercules’ tongue does something weird, pulling away and nudging at the inside of his own cheek. He pushes something over to Alex’s mouth - a metal capsule of some sort. “Nothing fatal to them can enter or leave,” Hercules whispers quietly, pulling back slightly. “I had that here before Lafayette set up the wards.” He pulls back completely.

“Did we say you could stop?” Lafayette demands.

“No, sir,” Hercules says, and kisses Alex again, careful not to dislodge the capsule from under Alex’s tongue. “It drains them,” He says onto Alex’s lips softly. “You’ll need to make sure no humans are close enough for them to grab, because if they find a power source they’ll latch on and suck until the human is nothing but a shell.”

“Okay,” Alex says. 

“It’s a needle,” Hercules adds. “Stab their neck.”

“That’s enough,  _ minou _ .” 

Hercules latches back onto Lafayette like he hadn’t just been instructing Alex on how to kill them. Alex takes a shaky breath and lets Thomas pull him into a bruising kiss - very different from Hercules’.

Laurens looks away, an unreadable expression on his face.

Something happens then. Lafayette strokes his thumb over Hercules’ lower lip gently, tilts his head up, and murmurs something. When Hercules exhales, he releases a wisp of grey light, like a jellyfish swimming through the air to dissipate by Lafayette’s face. 

“The physical representation doesn’t do the act justice,” Thomas murmurs, eyes locked on the pair. “His soul truly is beautiful.”

“Is that what Maria did to me?”

“Yes,” Thomas says. “But that was different. Hercules’ soul belongs to him, puppy. Yours? Doesn’t belong to you.”

Alex’s breath hitches, and he stares determinedly forward. He’d forgotten.

“Jefferson,” Laurens says stiffly. “You said you wanted to find Reynolds?”

“Right,” Thomas says, and then his overwhelming presence is gone. “Laf, watch Alex for me?”

“Mhm,” Lafayette says, absorbed in whatever he’s doing with the grey energy. 

Thomas rolls his eyes. “ _ Très bien, _ ” he says sarcastically, and then he and Laurens disappear.

Hercules’ eyes have glazed over, Alex notices. He’s not as aware as he just was - whatever spell Lafayette has over him is taking hold quickly. 

“Laf?” Alex says, stepping forward. Lafayette drops Hercules and jumps in surprise. Hercules begins edging away as Lafayette turns.

Alex catches Hercules winking at him and thinks that maybe he isn’t as dazed as he appears. 

“Yes?” Lafayette says, only a tinge of annoyance tainting their voice. 

“I’m just - I’m curious about how the soul sucking thing works,” Alex says. “What is letting you pull something intangible from someone’s body?” He reaches a hand up, tongues the capsule between his gums and cheek, and swipes a finger there, rolling the capsule down to rest in the web between his index finger and thumb. 

“Crush it,” Hercules mouths, and Alex inhales.

“It’s not something you’d be able to understand,  _ mon cheri, _ ” Lafayette says. They’re watching Alex carefully, and Alex knows how fast they can move. There’s no way he’ll have enough of a window of time to successfully make it within arms reach of Laf  _ and _ crush the capsule,  _ and _ stab the needle into Laf’s neck. 

Hercules sees it too - he rises slowly. Lafayette doesn’t react, likely doesn’t notice. 

“Sir,” Hercules says quietly, and Lafayette tenses again, turning. 

“Oh, no. Not this again,” Lafayette groans. “You caught me by surprise last time,  _ minou _ . You cannot fight me.”

“I can’t,” Hercules admits. 

Alex crushes the capsule. Takes only a split second to finger the needle into position between the pads of his index and thumb. Leaps forward, touches a finger to Lafayette’s neck before he brings up the needle, feels the tense muscle there tighten further as they prepare to turn, but then the needle hits, sinks into skin and flesh and the fluttering pulse like a fang into the neck of an unwitting human. 

And Lafayette drops like a stone. 

“That was easier than I thought it’d be,” Alex breathes to Hercules, who watches Lafayette carefully. 

“It’s not over,” He says. “Incubi don’t die that easily. They’re faking, or they were too caught by surprise.”

“But -”

“Back!”

Alex leaps back instinctively, but Hercules spends too much time watching Alex to take heed of his own warning. 

Lafayette shoots up, grabs his arm, and immediately pins him to a wall. 

“Alex, go,” Hercules says through gritted teeth, dodging Lafayette’s lips. “Tell the King he’s an asshole, but I helped carry out his plan in the end.”

“What are they doing?” Alex demands, but when he tries to get close Hercules shakes his head, frantic. 

“They don’t know what they’re doing, they’re desperate for energy, you drained them. They will die if they don’t get that energy, they’re operating on pure instinct, now  _ go! _ ”

“I don’t want to leave you -”

“I gave you the needle, Alex. Whatever they do to me is my fault. G -”

Hercules is cut off by Lafayette’s mouth on his, not staying still for a moment, moving and pressing and demanding  _ more. _ Claiming and sucking and biting and pulling, and their eyes glow dull grey as Alex watches, horrified. Lafayette is breathing shallowly, shoulders shuddering and hands shaking as they take and take and take, not stopping as Hercules weakly tries to push them away. Lafayette grows stronger as Hercules grows weaker, and soon Alex can see Hercules’ skin start to shrivel, wrinkle, become more chalky - chalkier than usual. And then.

Hercules’ head begins moving with Lafayette’s, giving as much and more as Lafayette is asking. Pushing back and begging and laying himself open as much as he can, letting Lafayette take what he needs. It’s no longer a battle. Now - now it’s the shadow of a puppet show, some long-forgotten song and dance only one partner knows. 

Hercules runs out of life, eventually. 

Lafayette backs up slowly as Hercules falls. Stares, petrified. Drops to their knees, as something icy hot runs through their veins, shaking them to the core. They always possessed the fundamental knowledge of what they can do when they lose control. But to see it - no. 

To see it here, to see Hercules lying on the red red carpet, a mimicry of blood never spilt… it hurts. Their chest hurts, they breathe and suddenly are on all fours, heaving, dry heaving, because they’re in their right mind again, now. They’re aware and awake and alive and Hercules is there, right there, a shell, a husk of the being he once was. 

Alex wants to run.

Lafayette is powerful. They’re undeniably so. They’ll turn around soon, see him. They’ll remember the feel of the needle on their neck, they’ll react. 

“Let me forget,” Lafayette rasps suddenly. Turns halfway, glares. Alex thinks he can see something glisten in their eyes, but shakes off the notion.

Alex backs up. “I can’t do that.”

“Your  _ King _ can,” Lafayette spits, but it’s hollow. They’re not angry - they’re not anything, really. Their expression is blank, their eyes are dead, and Alex is reminded of Aaron, again. A droplet of water falls then, splashes onto the carpet, another onto Lafayette’s hand. They bow their back, and Alex hears them bite back a howl of pain, slipping to their elbows and scratching at the carpet with one hand. 

_ Taking control of a body _ , Alex thinks.  _ Forcing it to do something it doesn’t want to. It’s not unlike… violating it. _

“I can’t call him,” Alex says, quiet, regretful, but the door is opening and Aaron slides through, walking quickly to stand by Alex and twining their fingers together. 

Lafayette’s gaze drops to their hands, and his lips twist into a hysterical smirk. “You’re ze  _ worst _ , Burr,” They say, breath hitching behind sobs, accent becoming prominent and slurring their speech. “Ze absolute  _ worst _ .”

“ _ I _ can wipe it,” Aaron says quietly. “Your memory of this. You’ll think - you’ll think we had my cousin come through - you know the one. Shifter, like me, but for fear. You’ll think we had him come through - you couldn’t face him. Hercules jumped in front of you, saving you from whatever my cousin shifted to. He died in the attempt. You swore on your life and grave to stay out of the conflict. You won’t engage any further in the war. You’ll cut Jefferson out of your life.”

“Okay,” Lafayette agrees readily, almost desperately, pushing themself up onto their thighs. “Please.  _ S'il vous plaît _ . I cannot -  _ Je ne peux pas être responsable de sa mort. _ ”

“ _ Nous comprenons _ ,” Aaron says. 

“For the record,” Alex says. “ _ Desolé. _ I didn’t mean - I didn’t want -”

“ _Je connais_ ,” Lafayette says wryly. They aren’t angry, still, why aren’t they angry? “This is a war, _ma petit._ _Je connais._ ”

Aaron wiggles his fingers, and Lafayette nods. They close their eyes, still on the ground, and Alex watches the green-tinged white magic descend, nuzzling its way into Lafayette’s head. 

“Should we move the body?” Alex asks quietly, nodding to Hercules. Lafayette slumps over, and the tendrils of magic return to Aaron’s fingers. 

“No,” Aaron says. “I think - they’ll want to be able to bury him themself.”

* * *

 

In war, no one has time to mourn. 

Elizabeth Sanders sees the limp figure in Lafayette’s arms and knows, immediately, who it is. She rushes over. “No,” She breathes, and places her hands delicately on Hercules’ cheeks, lifting his chin. 

His skin is cold and clammy to the touch, and Beth’s hands, shoulders start to shake as she stares into Hercules’ blank and glassy eyes. “No,” She says again, and throws back her head and  _ wails _ .

Lafayette flinches, but otherwise doesn’t react, clenching his jaw as Adrienne steps forward tentatively. “ _ Amour? _ ” She says, and rests her palm on Lafayette’s arm. “ _ Est-ce que tu vas bien? _ ”

“ _ Oui _ ,” Lafayette says, and Adrienne almost recoils at the deadness of the tone. 

“Laf,” Martha says. She pushes Patsy behind her, and shakes her head. “Set him down. Let Beth mourn.”

“We’re in the middle of a war,” Lafayette snaps. “There is no  _ time _ -”

“Shut up!” Beth yells, and actually slaps them. They recoil, almost dropping Hercules. Adrienne wishes she could preserve this moment - Lafayette’s absolutely incredulous expression, and Beth’s glower. “Shut up,” She repeats, and then she’s deflating, curling into herself as she stares at Hercules’ dangling arm. Lafayette sighs, and relaxes slightly. Martha and Adrienne exchange a relieved glance - neither of them want to fight Lafayette, but if he had attacked their girlfriend… 

“King George’s minions,” Lafayette says, answering Beth’s unasked question. “He saved me. Jumped in front of something that would’ve killed me.”

“Why?” Beth demands, and Lafayette is startled by the vehemence in her voice. “You treated him like  _ shit _ !” 

“I did not -”

“You kind of did,” Martha says, tone more apologetic than the enraged one of Beth. 

Lafayette quiets, and lays Hercules down on a booth, stepping back to give Beth space. 

“Come here,” Adrienne says, and embraces them. “ _ Je t'aime, chéri, _ ” She murmurs, tangling her fingers in their hair. 

“And I you,” Lafayette says. They stay in Adrienne’s arms until Martha rests a hand on their shoulder, and they jerk away in surprise. 

“Sorry,” Martha says, and there’s a pause before she says, more softly this time, “It is unlike you, to just sit around after such an act of devastation. And so violently against you?” 

Lafayette just shakes their head, feeling only regret and grief building in their stomach instead of anger.

“I can’t. I’m not going to.” They shudder as their mind zeroes in on the memories of just a few moments before. They frowned as they seemed to almost waver for a moment before solidifying. Hercules shaking on the floor. Their own emotion bubbling up like an overfilled cup of soda. 

Declaring in a shaky voice their unwillingness to be involved in this childish war. A war that had taken too much from all of them. Would take so much from all of them.

They pull away from the warmth of Adrienne’s arms reluctantly, and rub at their eyes. That’s when a wail echoes through the whole car, and Adrienne runs away quickly to a cot in the corner, making shushing noises gently. Reaching in, she gently picks up a crying Georges. 

Lafayette’s breath catches as they look at the swaddled baby, and Adrienne smiles at them with soft eyes. 

“Would you like to hold him  _ cheri _ ?” 

Lafayette nods , and holds out shaking arms. His eyes well with tears again as he looks down at Georges wide eyes and chubby cheeks. Curly hair had started to grow in tufts and they let out a watery laugh when one hand comes up to grasp at a stray curl of his own.

“Hello  _ mon choux _ . Why do you cry so much,  _ mon petit choux _ ?” 

George's face scrunches up, and his lips come together in an over dramatic pout.

“He is a tiny devil you know.” Adrienne says, but in a tone so full of love that it takes away from any insult the words might have brung. “Just like you.”

Lafayette hugs the child to their chest and feels hot tears leak out of  their eyes as they sob. The small hands curling at the back of their neck only serve to make the sobs shakier as they mumble incoherent French into the blanket that Georges is swaddled in.

Pulling back, they press a teary kiss to his forehead before passing him back to Adrienne.

“ _ Merci. Merci ma moitie. _ ” Pressing the heels of their hands to their eyes they step back towards the end of the car, swallowing back the lump in their throat.

“Where are you going,  _ cheri? _ ” She sounds concerned, but in a resigned kind of way, as if she knows she couldn’t stop them if she tried.

“I don’t know.” They answer truthfully, and as they slide the door open, they throw a wan smile over their shoulder. “Somewhere this whole mess won’t reach me.”

* * *

 

“Why are cemeteries surrounded by walls?” Silence, and then - “Because everyone’s  _ dying _ to get in there!” 

A few quiet laughs scatter the room, as the beings there titter nervously amongst themselves. A jester stands in the middle of the room, dressed all in bright flashy colours, bells jingling with every slight movement, and face painted with a garish smile. Everything about him is desperate, as he spews out joke after joke, getting steadily more lewd as he does. 

The car is Versailles-like in that everything is centered around one being - King George. He’d hate the comparison. 

Everything is ornate, and the guests are dressed in their finest ballgowns and tuxes, jewelry flashing and glasses tinkling. All fawn over the King, in a ritual resembling the Grand Levee, which French King Louis XIV created - a witnessing of his awakening. He would only allow a few select favorites to enter his chambers and watch him dress, and everything would focus on him. 

The King curls his finger, gesturing for Seabury to come closer. “Come here, cum bucket,” he says, catches Seabury’s wrist and pulls him onto his lap. 

“How do you make holy water?” The Jester says loudly. He glances surreptitiously at the King, who pretends not to hear. “You boil the hell out of it.”

Seabury hides a giggle in the back of his thin hand, but becomes solemn when the King frowns. “Not the best choice of joke,” the King comments. 

The jester, who had been listening, deflates instantly. “What does the sign for an out of business brothel say? Beat it, we’re closed!”

This gets a bark of a laugh out of the King. 

“Sire,” Seabury murmurs  submissively. He runs a hand down the King’s chest. “May I suggest we retire to your chambers for the night?”

“An excellent idea, my pet,” The King says, catching Seabury’s wrist. “However I must watch our fool make a fool of himself a while longer. “Do you think you can wait, my little slut?”

“No, sire,” Seabury says, grinding down onto the King. “I wish to feel you within me once more, I wish for you to claim me -”

“Since when do I give a damn what you want?” the King growls, and stills Seabury’s hips with his free hand. “You’re my little doll, boy. You don’t  _ think _ .”

“Yessir,” Seabury breathes, and bares his neck, shakes as the King gnaws at it gently. He wonders if this is what he really wants, before the teeth sink into his flesh and his eyes glaze over, his mind glazes over. Of course this is what he wants… he loves the King. Loves him with all his being.

The King’s next words are distant - something about the jester, Ben-something. Benjamin? Ben - Benedict? 

“That’s Benedict Arnold, right? He was a loyal supporter of Washington’s, wasn’t he?” Someone mutters just out of sight in the crowd. 

“Switched sides to the King,” someone else responds. “No one trusts a turncoat.”

“Not even one who did the turning to our benefit?”

“I suppose not.”

“Those who turn once will turn again,” the King murmurs in Seabury’s ear. “You can’t trust someone willing to give up everything he has to switch sides. He’ll have no hesitation repeating the action.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Now, ignore the jester. I’m all you need to think about tonight, baby.”

The King gropes Seabury’s ass, massaging it and drawing out a moan. He slips his fingers into the thin shorts Seabury’s wearing, and nudges and pushes at the plug in his ass. “Are you loose for me, slut?” He murmurs lowly. “Are you ready to take me all the way down on the first try? Are you ready to get fucked tonight?”

“Yes sire, please, I need your cock in me, I need -”

“You don’t need anything,” the King snaps. “You’re my toy, slut. You don’t get an opinion.”

“Yes, sire. Sorry, sire.”

“Good boy,” the King says, and is about to say something else when someone clears their throat.

“Um,” someone says. “Sire?”

Everything goes quiet, and everyone turns to stare either at the voice or at the King.

“What do you want?” He snaps. 

“This is an open area… we can leave, if you would like…?”

“Yes, yes. Do that. Go.” The people around them look almost incredulous before the King scowls. “Well? Go!”

They scramble to get their things and leave the car. When the last straggler has exited, the King smacks Seabury’s ass. “Go bend over my desk, boy. I have something to attend to before I fill you with the release you beg so prettily for.” Seabury makes an eager noise before scampering over.

The jester stands still and silent at the edge of the room. The King approaches him and smiles. It’s not a nice smile - razor blades and blinding color. Sharpness liable to cut with surgical precision. “Now, Arnold,” the King says, lights up a fire in his hand, throwing the jester’s scars into sharp relief. The King finds satisfaction in knowing he was the one to put them there. “Where were we?”

* * *

 

After Lafayette stumbles out, clutching Hercules’ body, Alex grasps desperately at Aaron’s hand.

His eyes seem to be painfully dry, and he can feel the tears prickling behind his eyes but then won’t fall. All he has in his brain is the look of utter bliss that Hercules had had as he was dying, as his soul was sucked out so slowly. 

He takes a breath to compose himself before looking sideways at Aaron, who has such concern in his eyes… In his darker then usual eyes. It’s still his mother's face staring back at him, but as if the features are being rearranged - a puppeteer controlling them. 

Instead of the normally watery brown eyes, they’re darker, like the old weathered bark of a tree, or a scalding hot coffee swirling around in a cup.

Alex holds his tongue, not saying a word about the change in Aaron’s appearance, but he almost feels like he could fly on the inside. Burr’s eyes look like _ his _ . This has to be a giveaway of how he feels. Even if he didn’t know it. 

But he doesn’t want to give Aaron any false hope. Not now, when everything around them is crumbling.

“Why did you come to see me? Am I needed somewhere?” He doesn’t know if he wants to see the King again if he can help it.

But Aaron just shakes his head. “No, I just… I wanted to check up on you.” 

His voice is soft as he steps close, before pulling him into a hug, and Alex  _ knows _ that Aaron isn’t his mother, that he’s only in her form, but the embrace is so familiar. He burrows into it, and as Aaron speaks, ever so softly, his churning insides settle.

“I know that all this sneaking around has been awful. I know that Thomas has been awful.” There’s regret in his voice and as he pulls away to stare at Alex, his breath catches at the sympathy he finds.

“You’ve been caught up in this mess and you didn’t even ask for it to happen. It’s fine for us, you know, the King and Reynolds-” His lip curls but he ploughs on “- and me, but it isn’t for you. It’ll be more dangerous, because you’re a human. There’s only so much you can be protected from.”

Alex wonders vaguely if he should feel worried for himself. If he should feel anything other than the cold chill that’s slowly settling over him, so much more frequently than it used to. 

“It’s alright.” He murmurs, “It is. If we don’t fight then who will? When else would you have this chance?” 

Aaron just pulls him into a tight hug once more as an answer. They stand like that for a moment in the empty car- it’s almost enough to drive away the cold in his chest- before there’s a cough from the other end of it. Looking up Alex makes eye contact with a sneering James Reynolds.

“This is all really heartwarming, but honestly? We have work to do if you hadn’t forgotten.” Energy crackles around him, more loose and wild then ever, and Alex feels the hair stand up on his arms, like he’s in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

“The Baron’s still up and kicking. The King wants to change that.” He says, and Alex can feel the thick disgust coiling in his stomach. He can understand why Angelica wanted to punch him. 

Revulsion runs cold fingers up his spine as Reynolds’ gaze lingers for far too long on the shine of his collar to be at all comfortable. He has to resist the uncontrollable urge to try and rip it off again with both hands because he knows that it won’t work. He’s got still red marks on his neck to prove it, after all.

Aaron tugs on his hand gently, pulling Alex out of his thoughts. “We’d better go before Reynolds gets even more pissy.” He says quietly, with a smile that makes the uneasy feeling in his stomach fade away.

“I can see why the King and he get along. They’re both drama queens.” He hisses back and Aaron has to hold back a laugh by pressing a hand to his mouth.

Reynolds shoots a dirty look over his shoulder, and Alex just blinks back innocently.

Alex fully expects to have to push through the crowd once more in the next car. He’d gotten so used to the luxury of being in Thomas’ company and his stomach twisted at the memory of being led like a dog. Like a  _ puppy _ a voice supplies, in a hissing, creeping voice, that came from the frosty crevices of his mind.

But instead, as Reynolds walks - practically swaggers - through the train car, people step out of his way. Some out of fear, an expression Alex had seen many times while with Thomas, and others with a admiration and respect. And Reynolds just basked in it, the confident smirk on his face making Alex’s jaw clench in annoyance.

And then he’s whirling around, making Alex step back at how close their faces suddenly are.

There’s a leer on the other man's face and it makes Alex’s skin crawl with dislike. Reynolds reaches carefully into one of the inside pockets of his jacket, and there’s a flash of curiosity in Alex’s mind before his breath catches at what he pulls out.

Rhinestones glitter on the red, white, and blue surface of the leash sitting painfully innocently in his hands. As his eyes flick to Alex’s collar, Alex’s mind flashes in alarm. 

“No-” He backs up quickly, and Aaron half steps in front of him but the mage just pushes him out of the way with a sneer and a spark of magic. Alex tries to back up further but the crowd just pushes against him and bile rises in his throat at the memory of this happening before.

Then Reynolds leans forward and clicks the metal clasp of it into place. Alex’s mouth dries as he looks into his stupidly smug face, then to Aaron, who’s standing helplessly at the side.

Then everything gets worse as he feels a tug at the collar. Stumbling forward, he flushes at the jeers that he can hear from the crowd.

“What a pretty puppy you are,” Reynolds sneers and Alex can hear the sentiment being passed around from person to person. He feels small and vulnerable under all the staring eyes, and the taunts that ring around his ears.

Reynolds winds the leash lazily around his hand, and Alex flinches at every little tug and pull.  

“Look up, doll,” someone calls, and the crowd dissolves into laughter. Alex can hear whistling - wolf whistling. He tries to ignore them but they build up - loud. 

“He gets passed around an awful lot, doesn’t he?” One says. 

Alex shudders violently. The words crawl over his skin like bugs.

“Smile, sweet cheeks!”

“You’re so pretty, darling, why do you let it go to waste like this?”

And “it could put its mouth to much better use,” smugly, not even jokingly. 

It’s not Reynolds, thank God, but -

Someone yanks Alex’s arm and he yelps. Reynolds stops walking and raises an eyebrow, as if to say “well? Get on with it.”

The creature leans close, and Alex can feel the hot breath on his neck. “Slut,” the creature hisses. “Jefferson’s dick wasn’t enough so you had to go and find another - insatiable little whore.” 

“I’m not -”

“Shut up, slut.”

“Get off him,” Aaron snarls, hands clenched at his sides. “Don’t fucking touch him.”

But Reynolds just shakes his head scornfully, making a tutting noise.

“Honestly Burr, who are you kidding? You can’t do a thing to protect your  _ boyfriend. _ You’re too weak.”

Their eyes meet and Alex shakes his head slightly, wincing as sharp claws catch under his chin.

Then everyone freezes at a sudden rumbling that shakes the train car.

_ Boom. _

“What was that?” Reynolds demands, and releases Alex to push to the center, the people separating around him. Alex has a vivid recollection of Thomas, in one of the first cars they’d been in, parting the crowd like the Red Sea.

A blinding flash lights the car. The lightbulbs lining the sides of the walls fizz and pop, making people jump from the booths. 

“What the fuck?”

Alex feels jostled by the crowd, a tiny bottle in the middle of a giant ocean, when he feels a steady hand encompass his. 

Aaron pulls him back to the fringes of the chaotic mess of people, and they watch with wide eyes as Reynolds whirls around in the center of it, eyes dark and hands sparking. The tattoos on his arms glow in the dim light, pulsing with barely restrained energy.

His eyes are wild as he stares around the room and his mouth is cut in the shape of a vicious scowl.

“Come out you fucking bastard, I know it’s you -!”

The light flash out and there’s a moment of complete darkness, and the awful creeping quiet that suddenly falls upon the car is enough to make Alex squirm.

Then they flash back on, to reveal Thomas and Reynolds, locked together in the middle of the car. 

Thomas’ hand is pressed tight against the juncture of his neck and his jaw, and Reynolds’ eyes bulge in his effort to breathe. He lets out short choked gasps, arms struggling weakly to pull the demon’s arm away from the chokehold, but with no avail.

Thomas is carrying out all of this with a lazy intensity - posture relaxed and nonchalant, but his eyes are fixed on the other man's face and there’s a wicked curve to his smile. 

Reynolds tries to speak, but Thomas laughs, clenching his hand tighter around Reynolds’ larynx. 

“Now what are you doing here, you slimy rat? Scouting out for the  _ Pretender _ like the suck up you are?” He sneers in his face and Reynolds blanches angrily, but he can’t draw in enough breath to muster a reply.

Alex’s grip on Aaron’s arm has to be painfully tight, but the shifter doesn’t comment, eyes locked wide onto the sight in front of them.

“What, were you rallying all these people against me?” He sweeps an arm out, indicating the crowd, and many of them flinch back. Aaron tugs him towards one of the doors and he follows quickly, eager to get out of the car.

“I’m touched, I really am. Does Georgie-pie really think I’m that important?”

They manage to stay under the radar, Thomas’ attention fixated on Reynolds’ quickly paling face. The sparks flying from his fingers get more and more erratic as Thomas’ hand presses more insistently at his throat, and Alex’s own tightens at the sight of his desperately gaping mouth.

But then he’s pushing him back, and Reynolds gulps in air, hand coming up to grasp at his throat as if he wasn’t quite certain whether it was still there.

Thomas’ eyes narrow and the flash of power that Alex sees in his eyes is enough to make his spine tingle with fear. 

“You think you’re so good at magic,  _ boy _ .” There’s an ancient, vicious twist to the challenge in his voice and as Reynolds raises his head shakily, wiping away spit flecks from the corners of his lips. 

Thomas whistles sharply.

Then George - the erlking - is shouldering his way through the car, eyes bright with the promise of violent delight.

Reynolds’ eyes widen at the sight of him, and he tries to back up, but is blocked by an invisible force.

“Hello Washington, how nice to see you. You know, I was just having a walk around when I found this bastard riling up the good people of this train against me…” He adopts a mock affronted expression. “Now I couldn’t have traitors aboard my train, and I would have killed him off myself but, well, I feel that you’d make a better example of him, seeing as he killed one of your own for his magic.”

Washington’s jaw had tightened when he’d seen James Reynolds, and Alex could see the tension lining his shoulders, the magic that sparked around him, and the overwhelming urge to just go at him.

But he plays along.

“Thank you, Thomas. You know, I just can’t stand traitors, especially not this one.” His gaze, if possible, narrows further onto the cowering form of James Reynolds.

“And I do think that it’s time that the people of this train learned that being a traitor -” He clucks his tongue, “- simply won’t do.”

Thomas extends a hand towards the helpless figure of James Reynolds and tilts his head. The look that passes between the two of them is one of two large predators sizing up each other. But then George is turning to face Reynolds and the grin that cuts itself wide on his face is nothing short of terrifying.

“I’ve been waiting for this, for a long time.” 

Then Aaron is tugging him quickly out the door, but not quickly enough. 

James screams. Cuts spread red and thin along the skin of his arms, energy flashes out through his eyes and mouth with a strange twisting light, and Washington pulls at it, like a fisherman with delicate string.

The magic is burning him from the inside out.

Reynolds starts convulsing, and Thomas’ lip curls in disgust, before he’s falling limp to the ground, boneless and frail. All that’s left is a shining ball of burning light, that hurts Alex’s eyes to look at. 

Then the car door is sliding shut and Aaron leans against it, panting.

“That was too close.”

Alex nods, breathlessly, and realizes distantly that his hands are shaking.

A vague thought comes to him, then. 

He might die in this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY OKAY HOLY SHIT WE GOT FANART!!!!!!!! IT'S RIGHT OVER [HERE](http://someonehelptheon.tumblr.com/post/152737652149/some-random-doodles-inspired-by-whos-gonna-ride) AND IT'S AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL AAAAAAAAAAAAA A A A A A 
> 
> dam boi this is comin to an end soon ;^(
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS APPRECIATED!!! A LOT!!!!


	11. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fishermen brawl, remember an ancient fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Rape, character death and blood. Descriptions of violence.

Alex spends what seems like only a moment locked in Aaron’s warm embrace - Aaron still , before he’s pulling away, looking apologetically back at Alex.

“I have to leave. Thomas is probably going to look for you and-”

Alex nods, cutting off his hurried explanation.

“No I-I get it.”

As he nods, and walks hurriedly to the door, his form slips and slides. Alex chews at his bottom lip, but just as Aaron reaches the doorway he calls out to him impulsively.

“I love you.”

Aaron’s fuzzy figure froze, but he turned his head just slightly, and Alex could see the corner of a sad smile on his face.

“I love you too.”

And Aaron was right to leave, as just a few seconds later, the car door slid open and Thomas stepped in, unruffled, perfect, nothing out of place. “Oh. Puppy. How convenient. Where’s Laf?”

“They had to, um. They kicked me out. To have some time with Hercules.” Alex feels a pang at the name, but he pushes it down.

“Of course,” Thomas says, resignedly, as if he’d expect nothing less. His eyes land on the violently colored thing running down Alex’s front and his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that the Union Jack?”

“Uh,” Says Alex. “Um. Yes.”

“Why is there a Union Jack leash on your collar?”

“Yes,” Alex says. 

He doesn’t offer up any other explanation and there’s silence for a second before Thomas sighs and prods the issue further.

“Who put that there?”

Alex hesitates for a second, before speaking. “James Reynolds.”

Thomas stills, and Alex startles as he sees small bolts of electricity crackling along his arms and down his torso, stretching up his neck and firing together in his eyes. “James Reynolds,” He echoes, and he’s glowing now, the same hellish red-tinted black as before, shadows dripping off him like ink and flooding the floor. Alex yelps, and jumps onto a booth, watching in horror as the black spreads and spreads, beginning to creep up walls and cover windows.

“Thomas,” Alex says quietly, and he reaches up and un-clips the leash. “Please - please calm down.”

Thomas doesn’t speak, instead beginning to regulate his breathing, in and out on counts of ten. “Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness,” he mutters, a mantra. 

Alex reaches over the edge of the table and drops the leash, watching it thunk with a dull  _ thwop _ into the inkiness below. 

The shadows flow and ripple like the flat part of the ocean, the undisturbed portion in the middle with no land in sight. The leash floats its way back to Thomas and knocks into his feet. He eyes it warily, and halts his counting to bend and scoop it up. 

“Please,” Alex says. 

Thomas clenches his grip tighter, squeezing the leash until it digs into his hand, leaving red imprints. A jewel falls off, and lands on solid shadow and shatters. Alex flinches at the sound. 

“ _ Abite _ ,” Thomas says, and the word sounds familiar, Alex could’ve sworn he’d heard it before -

The leash violently explodes, scraps of leather flinging all around and rhinestones scattering through the air. Alex lets out a wordless squeak of pain as one of the larger pieces whips his cheek. The impact stings, and his hand comes up to cradle his face quickly.

The darkness around Thomas immediately drops. The shadows are sucked back up into his being as if a vacuum, and the electricity fizzles out. “Puppy,” he says, concerned. 

He reaches out one hand but stops when Alex turns his head away quickly, palm still sheltering his cheek. The pain is quickly fading, but he still doesn’t meet Thomas’ eyes, instead looking over the quiet car.

This one has a ragged air about it, the soft, worn leather peeling off the seats and the tables creaking with every minute movement of the train. The steel lining the windows is rusted and old, and the glass itself is clouded and scratched.

It doesn’t look as if anyone’s been here for a long while.

He clambers back down onto the floor.

Thomas’ voice breaks through his thoughts, and he finally glances back at him.

He’s eyeing his clothes as if he’s just seen them, and Alex has the sudden urge to wrap his arms defensively around his body.

“Those clothes are from the Baron, aren’t they?” 

It’s an honest question, and Alex can’t see the harm in replying. But he’s still hesitant as he nods, not entirely sure what Thomas is getting at.

His lips purse, and he steps closer, making Alex curl back instinctively, but Thomas’ hand catches his chin too quickly for him to jerk himself away.

Thomas snaps the fingers of his free hand and Alex feels cool air against his chest - which is suddenly bare. He’s wearing nothing but back briefs he was  _ not _ wearing before. 

He tries to pull back again but Thomas forgoes his chin and grips his hipbones instead, yanking them close and nuzzling Alex’s neck. 

Alex swallows.

Thomas reaches a hand out to the side and does a complicated flip of his wrist. A pile of multicolored, clashing clothes lands on his arm. He draws them close and pushes Alex back against the table. He sets down the pile and plucks out one item: black leather shorts. 

_ Short  _ shorts.

Alex tries to squirm away, but Thomas has him pinned with some kind of invisible force.

“Put these on,” Thomas says, and Alex looks at him disbelievingly.

“Um. No?”

Thomas rolls his eyes and drops to one knee, nudging one of Alex’s legs up slightly and slipping on on the shorts. He sets Alex’s leg down and repeats the process with the other. 

Alex, watching him, feels his blood begin to flow south at the sight of Thomas on his knees. His face flushes red and he prays Thomas doesn’t notice. 

Thomas stands slowly, close enough to Alex that he can feel his exhale against the leather. 

He reaches his arms around Alex’s torso, under his arms. Pulls forward a stiff itchy fabric, and wraps it around Alex’s chest.

Alex glances down and feels his throat tighten at the sight - green with black swirls, silver decorative latches going down the middle. Thomas turns Alex, and pushes his shoulders forward, making him bend at the waist until he’s pressed to the surface, squirming against the pressure on his crotch. 

Thomas fits his own hips against Alex’s, and Alex freezes. Thomas leans over, gently pulling and starting to thread the ribbon through the eyelets on the back of the corset. He ties it tight at the end, and Alex chokes. Leather straps are pushed over his shoulders and snapped onto the front.

Thomas lifts him, eyes scanning him critically. Shoes thump to the ground from thin air, and Alex gapes at them. “You don’t expect me to -”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, and suddenly Alex is four inches taller - straps of the heels digging into his feet. “Fuck,” he bites out as he stumbles, catching himself on Thomas’ jacket. 

Thomas laughs, and gently lifts Alex back to standing. He pauses, though, as he feels something brush his thigh, and Alex’s face gets redder, mortified. “Someone’s happy to see me,” Thomas murmurs, and circles his hips forward, pushing into Alex’s. Alex squeaks again at the sudden slide of leather against his dick, an unfamiliar sensation.

Thomas laughs and snakes a hand down the corset, bypassing the leather with ease. 

Alex throws his head back as his vision sharpens, and his muscles clench. He closes his eyes against the sudden assault on his senses and takes a deep breath, inhales the scent and  _ being _ of  _ Thomas _ \- all around him, surrounding. Present and grounding. 

Curls in his hand, clouds of  _ feeling _ in his mind and - 

The hair tugs in his grip, down down down. Heat and  _ sense _ and  _ oh.  _ Warm feeling enveloping him and goddamn, he never thought he’d see Thomas on his knees but - 

Hot. Wet. Electricity shooting through his nerves, gasps pushing air out of his lungs, shaking legs too weak to support him. Fingers twitching in a mass of curls, lips curving into a smile against the inside of his thigh. 

Adrenaline. Setting off illegal fireworks on the fourth of July. Color against the blackness of his eyelids. 

Floating. 

They switch.

Carpet burning his knees. He’s been here before - crawling. Red carpet scratching against tender skin. 

Red flashing behind his eyes. A hand in his hair, head falling back obediently.

Red hot pain in his scalp. Hands scrabbling for balance. Sore jaw and a lack of oxygen, tears running hot down his face, flushed cheeks and-  _ choke _ . 

Spit and mess everywhere. A strange flavour coating his tongue.

Head drop. Murmured praise.

“ _ Pretty puppy _ .”

_ Love. _

* * *

 

"Reynolds is down."

A whisper floats down the wind, and the Loyalists murmur to each other.  _ The king is angry. _

And angry he is. 

“Come here!” The King snarls, stalking down the car to his makeshift throne. “That insolent child… dares… I will have him  _ throttled _ \- BOY! WHERE  _ ARE _ YOU, I ORDERED YOU TO COME HERE IMMEDIATELY!”

Faint scrambling sounds as the faint, scrap of a human appears within the King’s sight. He sighs, and beckons him closer. “Come _ here _ , little boy. Little toy. Because that’s what you are, hm? My little, little  _ fucktoy _ .”

The human doesn’t make a sound, dropping his chin and hunching his shoulders, appearing as submissive as possible. The King giggles, pinching one of his cheeks. “So adorable, so ready to please, hm? Will you beg for my dick? Will you beg, you little cock slut?”

“Please, sir,” The human mumbles, letting his head loll to the side and expose the previous bite marks. 

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” The King says, running a hand down the scars making him gasp. “You see - you are not the first I’ve brought onto this train, poppet. There have been many more of you, you know this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But the first - oh, he was an infuriating one. Might’ve been because he wasn’t human - wasn’t easily subdued. I was forced to punish him many times - many, many times. He ran away, one day. Such an insolent brat, thought he could overthrow me, take my seat at control of the train.”

The human doesn’t say anything, and the King pouts. 

“This… brat. He continues to be a thorn in my side to this day. He couldn’t contend himself with my throne, no. He had to thrust me out of the train as well. But the train - it loves me. It  _ knows  _ me. It won’t throw me out that easily. So I wait. Bide my time. And that time has come, pet. That time has come. I gathered my forces. Set out a plan. Had two spies, even!” He sighs again. “But then - take a guess as to who kills one of my strongest allies?”

The human remains quiet, and the King bears his teeth in a grin. “I used to be able to take my anger for him out on  _ him _ . See, as much as he was non-human, he was still  _ mine _ .” The King hisses this last word, pushing closer to the human. “But now - now he’s gone. Pretending he’s stronger. Killing my allies. A thorn in my side? Pah. An entire vine of thorns, more like. But, I digress. A game, I proposed. A role-playing game, see? For tonight,” A pause, for dramatic effect, as his hands rake a line of pink down the human’s pale chest. “Won’t you let me call you  _ Thomas? _ ”

* * *

 

Alex is dazed as Thomas slips a long maroon coat around his shoulders - the one he’d been wearing since the first time Alex had seen him. “C’mon, puppy,” Thomas murmurs. “I have to check in with Von Steuben.”

They were on their way to “get rid” of the Baron, Alex remembers. Him and Reynolds and Burr. Of course Thomas is worried. He can’t find the energy to speak up, and his jaw twinges with every slight movement of his head. 

Once they step outside of the train car, Alex shivers, the slight breeze making goosebumps spread over the exposed skin of his legs, and his calves wobble with the strain of holding his ankles straight in the unfamiliar heels.

His hands grasp at the thick material of the coat, bringing it closer around his body. It has the overwhelming smell of Thomas and it makes his head spin once more. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Thomas lift a graceful hand and mutter something under his breath. The air stills for a moment, before he wraps an arm around him and pushes forward, through into the next car.

The minute they walk in, its chaos. The once tranquil car looks as if a hurricane has blown through it, the sofas thrown against the wall, and the curtains in tatters. Alex shies back as a man turns around, grin wide and sharp. He’s holding one of the boys by their hair and Alex feels bile rise quickly in his throat at the blank, glassy eyes staring out into the distance. There’s a red, still leaking stripe of blood across his throat, and it almost seems painted on.

He winces when the man laughs, at the sight of him, tossing the body aside with a sickening crunch as he takes a step towards them.

Thomas’ arm is still tight around his shoulders and he buries his face further into him, an eye still warily staring back at the man.

“Oh it’s you again. The pretty boy.” He coos, and Alex furrows his brow. “Looks like you’ve dressed up since the last time I saw you. You look absolutely  _ delectable _ .” He licks his lips at the last word and Alex feels a shiver run up his spine, the look in his eyes making him want to run, hide anywhere that was away from those piercing eyes.

“What? You don’t remember me?” He frowns, spreading his arms, “I haven’t changed that much have I?”

Alex looks up as Thomas sucks in a quick breath, his eyes wide. “John André.”

At that, the man laughs, placing his hands onto his hip as he does. “Exactly right! Of course, you’d know, being my captor and all.” His words take on a bitter twist at that, and his smile darkens at the edges. “But I’m free now. Thanks to the King.”

Suddenly there’s a noise from the other end of the car, a whimpering cry. Then comes that desperate voice of the Baron.

“Shush, William, it’s going to be fine, trust me darling,” 

John’s head turns sharply, and he snarls at one of the guards standing beside him. “I told you to shut them up, didn’t I?”

Alex’s eyes widen at the sight of them. Their bottom half is perfectly normal, legs adorned with boots and pants. However, from the waist up, they appear to be-

“Fish.” He says, in an incredulous tone.

Thomas sneers beside him, “Fishermen. A pun, in the mind of the  _ King _ .” He spits out the last word as if the very sound of it disgusts him.

Alex looks back at them reluctantly, their gaping mouths and shimmering scales. One of them walks over to where the Baron and two others have been tied up. Snatching one of them by the neck, he drags him back towards André.

There are muffled protests from both the Baron and Ben, but André ignores them, instead taking firm hold of the shaking boy’s hair with one webbed hand.

“So. It was you crying over there, was it?” 

The boy nods shakily, and Alex feels a twinge of sympathy at the snot leaking from his nose. Andre just sneers, and hefts his jagged knife in his hand. William tries to jerk himself away, but fails, instead wailing.

“William, don’t struggle, it’s going to be fine,  _ it’s going to be fi- _ ” The Baron’s shouts grow louder as Andre lines up his blade with his quivering throat. 

Alex hides his face in Thomas’ chest as he slices his neck open, blood spurting from the fatal wound as William’s cries devolve into gurgling whimpers. Blood spurts from his mouth as he chokes on it. 

André doesn’t even bother to put him out of his misery, just dropping him on the ground with a sneer before wiping the blade onto his hair. William writhes helplessly on the floor and the Baron struggles futilely against his bonds, shouts growing hoarse as he calls William’s name, sobs making his voice shake.

“Thomas, you fucking bastard,  _ stop him _ .”

Alex looks up at the demon, who still hasn’t moved a muscle. There’s a look of careful nonchalance on his face that he can’t decipher. He tries to run to André himself, to try and stop all of this, but one step and his leg judders with the strain of balancing on the precarious heels.

He falls back against Thomas and looks at the Baron, whose face has now fallen with resigned acceptance.

Then, he yelps as he’s pushed forward towards John Andre, heavy coat swept off his shoulders making him totter in his heels, ankles wobbling, before he’s caught by the siren stepping forward to catch him.

He looks back at Thomas with wide eyes, but he stands impassively, eyes blank and giving away nothing, aside from his outstretched arm, hand still splayed from pushing Alex.

“Well well well, looks like  _ someone’s _ unhappy with their  _ pet _ .” 

Alex stiffens at this, and he desperately searches Thomas’ face for any explanation at all, betrayal pooling in his stomach.

He gasps as cold hands come to rest on his hip and collar, pushing against the juncture of his neck and shoulder with dangerous precision. Alex’s breath stutters when John presses against his back, breath warm and wet in his ear.

“Lucky for you I’m not the kind to balk at leftovers.”

And then Alex’s eyes widen as Thomas moves slowly, unnoticed, to the other side of the train towards the Baron, footsteps soft on the red-stained carpet.

His eyes flicker sideways to where André is nosing at his neck, skin cold against his. He barely restrains a flinch when his tongue licks a wet stripe up his skin.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles through Andre’s chest and he buries his face into the crease of Alex’s neck, teeth scraping against his skin as he does.

“Oh, you taste better than I’d  _ imagined _ .”

Alex tries to distance himself from the sensations, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Thomas, who carefully unties both the Baron and Ben from their bonds.

One of the fish-soldiers, unfortunately, follows his gaze, and yells in alarm. André immediately looks up from Alex’s neck and pushes him away with a snarl, stalking forward. 

“You thought you could distract me with your little  _ boytoy _ ?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” Thomas responds mildly.

André lets out a short bark of laughter before signalling to one of the soldiers. “Kill the Baron.”

As they rush forward, Thomas stretches out one hand, making one of them stop in their tracks, clutching desperately at their scaled throat.

But one of them slips past, jagged sword angled straight for the Baron, wide eyes full of acceptance and sadness.

Then Ben is jumping in the way.

Red blood splatters onto the ground.

He lands.

Crumples.

Falls.

Thomas spins around, decapitating the rest of them, jacket flaring out around him as he does. Alex flinches as André’s head hits the floor.

The Baron has fallen to his knees beside Ben’s prone body, hands desperately trying to plug the still pulsing wound, blood coating his hands. Tears drip down his face as he cries, pressing his lips to Ben’s between a mantra of “You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, this is fine, you’ll be  _ fine. _ ”

Alex is still shell-shocked, spit drying quickly on the side of his neck and the cold imprints of hands on his body. 

He can only stare as Thomas walks over, still nothing but a blank expression on his face. He’s methodical as he wipes away the residue from his neck, and Alex just barely leans into his touch, breath sighing out of him.

Then his eyes are softening and his head dips down, lips pressing soft against his in an apologetic kiss. There’s no deepening of it, no tilting of heads, but the dry scrape of their lips moving together, as Thomas mumbles against them.

“I’m sorry, puppy.” 

There’s silence for a moment, in the still, frozen car, before there’s a shuffling noise as the Baron pushes himself to his feet, eyes up, away from the three dead bodies of his lovers still scattered around the room.

“I need to talk to you,” He says stiffly, and Thomas sighs, opening his mouth to speak, but. “Don’t.” 

Thomas nods shortly, and locks eyes with Alex. 

As much as he dreads going through the train in a fucking corset, leather short-shorts, and a collar, staying in the room with the two beings - the powerhouses they are - seems quite a bit more daunting. 

* * *

 

Thomas watches Alex as he leaves the train car, still unsteady on his new heels. He spares a thought for what he’ll encounter as he moves further through the train, then dismisses it as the Baron clears his throat.

“Thomas.”

“Baron,” Thomas says warily. “I apologize for -”

“You didn’t step in.”

Thomas purses his lips. “I had to wait, otherwise -”

“Otherwise it wouldn’t be safe for you to use your  _ own _ human, as bait. Of course. Could you really think of no other course of action?”

“There was only a brief moment where I was able to think before implementing a plan,” Thomas says stiffly. “I did my best to get you out.”

“Ben is DEAD!” The Baron explodes. 

Thomas steps back in surprise. 

“I know you don’t actually  _ care _ for your so-called pets, seeing as neither of them lasted longer than a week, but some of us  _ do! _ Dear holy fuck, Jefferson, not everything revolves around you!”

“I -”

“The only reason you even put an effort into saving me is that you  _ need _ me to fight in your goddamn war! Well guess fucking what, Thomas? I’m done. I won’t fight. If it means you have to kill me, then so be it.”

Thomas holds back the response he’d had burning on the tip of his tongue, staring. “You’re what?”

“Done,” The Baron repeats. His jaw is set, and he’s tense - ready to sprint away.

Thomas swallows. Counts in his head again - Lafayette. Laurens. Washington. Adrienne. Martha. 

And the Pretender? No one particularly powerful, but the whole common populace of the train behind him. 

“Okay,” Thomas says quietly. 

The Baron blinks in surprise. He relaxes, only a little. “What?”

“Okay,” Thomas echoes. “I won’t stop you.”

“Really?” The Baron is skeptical. “Because you’re controlling enough when there isn’t a fight, now that Georgie is becoming active I’d assume you’d become even more so.”

Thomas is quiet, because he himself isn’t sure why he’s just letting the Baron go. 

“Unless…” The Baron stops himself. “No. Thomas, to think you’ll win without the full support of everyone you can muster by your side - that’s cocky, arrogant, and idiotic.”

“The Pretender -” He interjects weakly,

“Is not weak by any means! Thomas, I was on this train when he lured you on. When he brought you here thinking you were just another human child. He overpowered you multiple times, you only managed to get away when André went to him unsummoned, and he wasn’t prepared to stop you from bolting.”

“It’s different now -” 

“No, it’s not.” The Baron pinches his nose. “Thomas, as much as you’d like to think that, you have to know you’re only lying to yourself.” 

“I’m not.” He knows how petulant he sounds, but he can’t be bothered to stop.

“You saw how powerful André was! Thomas, please honestly tell me that at least Laurens would be able to beat  _ him _ , much less King George!”

“It’s not a question of whether we can beat them, I know we can, it’s just that I don’t know if I can keep the train together after all of this-”

He knows he’s said too much as soon as the realization dawns on the baron’s face. He immediately straightens, pulling back and placing a well formed facade of a smirk on his face.

“Thomas-” He sounds apologetic, and he  _ hates _ it, hates it with all of his being.

“Well, even if I  _ can’t _ keep the train together I can just bring more people on, remold it. All I need for more power is to make more deals. And I’ll always have Alex.”

The Baron snorts at this, making him tense and narrow his eyes.

“What.”

“Oh it’s just-” He has to stifle another bout of laughter, “You think that Alex is going to stay with you? After how you’ve treated that young boy?”

“What are you saying.”

“Although he might, he hasn’t made good choices for most of his stay, has he? But once he starts getting options-” He clicks his tongue, “you may want to keep a closer eye on him, Thomas.”

He gets up sharply at this and walks towards the end of the train car, not caring as he steps hard on crunching bones.

“And you might want to think again about stepping too far.” He throws back before disappearing once more.

* * *

 

As soon as he leaves the Baron however, he crumples, thoughts racing through his mind like a flock of swallows refusing to settle.

It’s true that he’d been lenient with Alex as of late, but he’d always known where he was… hadn’t he?

Thinking back on it, his eyes narrow at the strange gaps in his memory where Alex had just dropped out of range, not for long, but long enough to now seem suspicious. 

His thoughts then jump to Laf. How odd he’d acted sometimes, how he’d stuck closer to Herc then he normally did. 

No.

“Burr.” He breathes and clenches his fist, feeling anger pulse through him. So they’d been  _ fucking _ behind his back too. He could almost see it, how easily they embraced, the longing looks that Alex would give him. His vision clouds with red and he snarls, his fist clenching so hard on the metal railing of the train that he feels it crush and break under his hand. 

He takes a breath. No. He could be wrong. He should go find Laf, maybe he was wrong. 

But when he teleports to their car to find them, there’s no one there. In fact, there’s a dead stillness about the car, as if no one has been in it for a long while. He can feel cold fingers of worry crawl up his back as he looks around.

“Lafayette? Where are you?” He steps carefully through it, putting on a facade of searching for him, but knowing somewhere inside that he won’t find Lafayette here.

He stretches out his senses and grips his cane tight when he realizes that he can’t sense the incubus  _ anywhere _ .

“Lafayette!” His eyes are wide when he spins around in the car, breath coming out in short puffs as he feels real fear seize at his throat. If Lafayette is gone who is left for him to trust? Who can he know that stand by him? Everyone is just afraid of him, they dislike him,  _ hate him- _

His lip curls, as he zeros in on a soul print.

“Burr.”

* * *

 

The wall has become well acquainted with Aaron Burr’s back in the past few days. 

He’s slammed, out of nowhere, straight into the corner of a picture frame, yowling with pain and hunching over against the straining force holding him there. 

“I hear,” Thomas growls, appearing not an inch from Burr’s face, and Burr whimpers. He pushes back into the wall without a flinch at the frame digging into the newly formed bruise as he feels himself shift into Alex once more. “I hear you’re sticking your prick into things you have no right to  _ touch _ .” 

“He’s not yours,” Burr says quietly. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.” Burr shifts, uncomfortable. “Can you let me down?”

“Not for a while,” Thomas says roughly, and Burr immediately gets the idea.

“ _ No. _ No.  _ Please.  _ It hasn’t been longer than a day, I haven’t recovered! Thomas, please -”

“Save the begging,” Thomas says, teeth glinting as he smiles, sharp and harsh. Hands roam down the familiar body, squeezing and massaging as they lower. Getting closer and closer to Burr’s crotch. Thomas laughs when Burr turns his face away, tears already dripping down his cheeks. He leans close, and whispers, “You’ll be doing a lot of that today.”

* * *

 

He stumbles as he lands in Martha’s car, still disheveled, emotions flowing through him as if he’s just a wire in the middle of a circuit.

The implications of everything hit him square in the face as he moves forward. 

Her eyes are wide as she turns to face him, and he falls forward into her arms, clutching at her with shaking hands.

“Martha, I’m fucked, we’re fucked, everything’s going to  _ shit _ .” He laughs, high and jarring, and feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“Thomas -” She sounds startled, but embraces him easily, hand stroking sure and calmingly down his back. “Thomas, what’s the matter?”

“King George is gaining power and I don’t have  _ any _ supporters and of course he has Seabury as a pet, that appeased him for a while but-” He looks up with tear stained cheeks, “Seabury isn’t going to last forever, and if he  _ beats me _ .”

Flashes of teeth at his neck, a voice jeering in his ear, feeling spent and worn out, stretched to the very limit of his being-

“If he beats me-” He can’t get the words out of his throat and chokes on them, tears coming faster now, “I don’t think I can Martha-”

“You won’t be beaten Thomas, I-” She hesitates, but ploughs onwards, “I’ll fight for you. If I have to.” 

He shakes his head, then looks around wildly, “Patsy, where’s Patsy-”

“With Beth.” Her voice cuts through his panic and he struggles to breathe, sobs making his body shake with the effort of holding them back.

“You can’t fight for me, you have to take care of them-”

“Adrienne and Beth can take care of them.” She sounds resolute as she tilts his head up to stare into his eyes. “Thomas, if it means this much to you, I’d fight a hundred Kings.”

He shudders, before saying quietly, “Why.”

She lets out a small confused laugh, “Why? Thomas we’re  _ friends- _ ”

“No I mean-” He sighs, “Why does everyone always leave?”

She hesitates for a second before venturing, “Alex?”

He lets out a watery laugh and drops his head onto her shoulder, arms still wrapped around her.

“You know he’s fucking Burr.” It hurts to say, but he forces it out, “Or Burr’s fucking him. Whatever. He doesn’t like me, that’s for sure.” 

Her arms are tense around him, but she doesn’t say a word, letting him ramble on.

“And that clever motherfucker disguised himself as Laf to do it.” He looks up to her, gaze suddenly sharpening. “Where is Lafayette, by the way? I couldn’t find him in his car.”

She clearly knows something, he can see it in her eyes, and the way she chews on her lip nervously. 

“Martha.” He says warningly, stepping back and straightening, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“He isn’t going to fight in the war anymore.” She blurts out, making him freeze. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. “He accidentally killed Hercules and he - he isn’t going to fight anymore.”

Thomas’ fists clench and unclench at this, and his jaw works before, he let’s out a snarl and casts out his senses, looking for Alex.

“Thank you for telling me that Martha. I’m sorry, but I really do need to find Alex.”

She calls out something to him but he’s already gone, hurrying out the door. He runs into Adrienne and mutters an apology before teleporting away, mind solely fixed on Alex.

* * *

 

“He seemed upset,” Adrienne comments, stepping into the car and closing the door. 

“He was,” Martha says, quietly. “His Alex has fallen in love with - you remember the Burr boy?”

Adrienne frowns. “The shapeshifter, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes,” Martha says. “That one. Though how Thomas’ boy fell in love with someone who doesn’t even look himself around him when Thomas is  _ right there _ , I wouldn’t know.”

“Shall I bring him here?”

“What do you want me to do to him?” Martha says, amused. “Kill him? Question him? ‘Why did you fall in love with my ex-husband’s pet’. Yes, he’ll want to answer that.”

Adrienne rolls her eyes. “Well you want  _ something _ , don’t you?”

Martha keeps her eyes down, twists her ring. Counts the scrapes of the gem against her middle finger one, two, three times before saying, “Yes.”

“What if I brought you his girl?”

“His girl?” Martha repeats incredulously. “Adrienne, we were just talking about -”

“Him and Alex having relations, yes, but he and this girl - they were  _ soulmates _ before she went insane. And you know how little I believe in those.”

“Insane?”

“The human girl,” Adrienne clarifies. “The human girl who sliced her finger with a letter opener. The human girl who ran straight into me and landed her hand in a trickle of blood running down my arm from a fight.”

Martha remembers. “Theodosia, wasn’t it?”

“Yes! Her.”

“But he no longer has feelings for her.”

“Oh, he does,” Adrienne says, grinning. “He loves her very much. They might not be romantic feelings, but a sibling bond is much tighter than that of romance. And you know what happens to taut rope that’s cut, yes?” Her lip curls. “He’ll be in so much pain he won’t even  _ notice _ Alex.”

“If you think you can bring them, then,” Martha gestures, “Be my guest.”

Adrienne’s face splits in her smile. “It’d be my pleasure.”

With a  _ crack _ , two people appear - Theodosia and Burr. Martha smiles benignly. “Good afternoon.”

Burr looks around warily. “Why did you bring us here?”

“Not even a hello?” Adrienne sighs dramatically. “I suppose it was too much to ask…”

“For someone who bled into my wound, left me to die, left me doomed - you sure are happy to see us again, to greet us with joy, as if a friend.”

“Am I not? You aren’t dead, human. You crashed into me that night, and you aren’t dead. Surely that means something.”

Burr starts incredulously, “That’s not anything special, Noailles, that’s common decency.”

“Indeed?” She says, and huffs. She sets down the bottle she’d been carrying. “Care for a glass of champagne?”

“No, thank you,” Burr and Theodosia say in unison. Martha had started to say the same, but cut herself off abruptly. Unfortunately for her, her action does not go unnoticed.

Adrienne shrugs. “More for me, then. You  _ Américains  _ have no appreciation for good alcohol.”

“California,” Martha says. Adrienne ignores her.

“You may be wondering,” Martha says. “Why I had Adrienne bring you here.”

“Just  _ maybe _ ,” Burr says sarcastically. His visage is starting to slip, looking less himself and more slender, feminine, tall. 

She glowers. “I brought you here to talk of my ex-husband.”

“We want nothing to do with Thomas Jefferson’s war,” Burr says immediately. 

“That’s not what I meant. I want to talk to you about Alex.” Martha takes note of the paling in Burr’s cheeks. 

“What about him?”

“Adrienne, if you please.”

An invisible force knocks Burr - now blurry - into the wall, and he lets out a cry of surprise. The force keeps him locked there as he struggles, and Martha immediately throws up her arms to defend herself from Theodosia’s incoming attacks. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she says. She ducks the next punch, swipes her leg under Theodosia’s, and in under a minute has her pinned.

“Next stop is Bordeaux,” Adrienne calls as she pours the golden liquid into the flute. “You know what that means, of course.”

“Our wine bunker,” Martha says with a grimace. She swings around so she’s sitting above Theodosia’s hips instead of on her chest. “We only have a few spaces left in our cellar here. We’ll have to be picky.”

“Couldn’t we make more space?” Adrienne pouts. 

“Maybe. Will you make the trip or shall I?” Martha absentmindedly pins down an arm Theodosia had managed to free. 

“I will. I can make it to Paris in time for that stop, you on the other hand seem to have trouble -”

“That was  _ one time _ ,” Martha protests, as Adrienne giggles and shifts her skirts, settling down on the far end of the sofa. “I don’t see why you find the need to wear these old fashioned dresses. It seems like such a hassle. Don’t your breasts begin to hurt after a while?” 

“Not really,” Adrienne says. “Besides, it’s fun. They’re almost comfortable, and there’s something about wearing a tight-topped poofy-bottom dress that appeals to me.”

“The modern ones work just as well, though,” Martha grumbles. 

“The highlight of my evening,” Adrienne says suddenly, “Will be the look on Burr’s face as he watches the life slip from his precious girlfriend’s body.”

“ _ NO! _ ” Is the immediate reaction, causing Theodosia to flinch. Burr quiets when he sees it, but the sounds of his sobs fill the room. “Please,” He says. “Your quarrel is obviously with me, let her go,  _ please. _ ”

“Can’t do that, Burr,” Martha says. “Thomas is upset. And when he’s upset, I’m angry.”

“I didn’t do anything to your husband!”

“Ex-husband,” Adrienne corrects lazily. She continues sipping her champagne. Burr elects to ignore her. 

“So you and Alex aren’t fucking behind his back?”

Burr sputters. He doesn’t deny it. 

“Hurt my friend, and I hurt yours,” Martha says. She slips off her shoe, and flips it around in her hand. 

Slams it home into Theodosia’s chest. 

Theodosia lets out a piercing scream, arching her back and almost throwing Martha off. But she stays, pushes the stiletto further. “We have, of course, a few hundred Bordeaux in the bunker, yeah? We can serve Napa Cab at our next gathering, I recall quite a few in our cellar here.” Theodosia’s screams increase, and Martha twists the shoe. “Your dislike for Californian red is well known, though.”

“We  _ could  _ say you bullied me into it,” Adrienne muses. “Getting rid of the cab would free up a lot of space, wouldn’t it.”

“Mmhm.”

Theodosia’s back arches again, and she frees an arm long enough to yank out the heel, before Martha snatches it back and drives it slightly to the left of the previous wound. 

This time when Theodosia screams, it’s more of a gurgle - she can’t get the words out around the blood starting to well up in her windpipe. 

“Please,” Burr cries, weak now. “Please have mercy, I don’t - I’ll do anything you want,  _ please! _ ”

Adrienne wrinkles her nose at him. “He’s being so noisy…”

“I’d move him, but I want him to watch her die,” Martha says. 

“Fair. Syrah?”

“Shiraz,” Martha corrects. “Penfolds Grange. It’s Australian, so Shiraz.”

“There’s a difference?” 

“Shiraz is a type of Syrah. The Australian version.”

“Interesting.” Adrienne watches as Martha dabs at the blood leaking Theodosia’s mouth. “Is she dead yet?”

“No,” Martha says, and twists the heel again. Theodosia twitches. “We have a few Deus Ex Machina Syrahs, if you’d prefer.” 

“That one’s French, isn’t it?” Adrienne sets down her glass and makes her way to where Martha and Theodosia sit, in the middle of the car. She scowls at the blood stains. “You know how hard that’s going to be to get out, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Martha replies. “To both.”

Adrienne watches for a beat longer before lifting a hand, fingers loosely curled, slowly turning it from palm down to up. 

Blood starts to rise up.

Theodosia begins to choke, as streams of the fluid force their way out of her throat, out of her nose, her ears. 

Her eyes. 

Covering her body as it leaks from her pores, a second skin of bright color. 

It pools in the air, slowly building into a writhing ball of thick red fluid. Martha watches, amused. 

Burr’s screams reach a fever pitch, and then he’s breaking free of the magic restraints, running for Adrienne, who appears to not notice.

“Adri -”

“Yes,” She says, and Burr narrowly dodges a spike hurled towards him, throwing himself out of the way. He lands on the ground and yelps.  _ Crunch _ . Bone. Adrienne returns her focus to the blood. “Broken leg. He won’t get up.”

Martha stares at Burr, slightly shocked. He’s curled his body inwards, but still tries to drag himself, shaking and sobbing, to Theodosia. His eyes stay locked on her prone form. “He’s very persistent.” 

“Mm,” Adrienne says. 

Theodosia gives one last twitch, and stills. Burr sees. “No,” he whispers, voice spent and broken. “Please, no. Please…”

“Get up,” Martha says, and rises, crossing to where Burr lies, tears dripping off his nose and onto the carpet as he refuses to tear his eyes from Theodosia’s corpse. “I said  _ get up _ .”

“I can’t, please, my leg -” 

“Stand on it,” Martha snaps. “You’ll heal.”

“I won’t,” Burr says. He pushes himself up anyway, wary of Martha - though she’s only a little more powerful than he is, she has Adrienne watching her back. And Adrienne… Burr holds back a shudder. 

The blood still floats in a blob, Adrienne studying it closely. Her blood is mingled in there a little, Burr guesses. She’ll likely try to separate hers from Theo’s. 

Adrienne snags her champagne flute from the table and downs the rest of the liquor in one go. She swipes the glass through the blob of blood. 

Burr watches in fascinated horror as she takes a sip. 

“Too sour?” Martha asks, amused. She yanks Burr the rest of the way to his feet, uncaring as he wobbles. 

“Too sweet, actually,” Adrienne says. She sloshes the liquid around, studying the trails it leaves, too thick not to stick to the sides of the glass. 

Burr leans over and retches, some of the sick splashing onto the black bottom of Martha’s dress. 

“Disgusting,” She sneers, and shoves him towards the door. “We’re done with you, Burr. Leave.”

“Can I - can I please have her body, I want to give her a proper burial, please -”

“How will you bury a body on a train?” Adrienne asks curiously. 

“Cremation,” Burr amends. “Just, please.”

Martha considers, locking eyes with Adrienne and taking note of the slight shake of her head. “Mm. I think no.”

Tears well in Burr’s eyes once more, and he struggles to speak. “Please… what do you have to gain…” 

“Your pain,” Adrienne says gleefully. “Shoo, little fly. Buzz off somewhere else where you won’t bother anyone.”

Burr is almost wailing again as Martha pushes him through the door. “I’ll do anything you want - I won’t go near Alex again, I swear, just give me her body,  _ please! _ ” 

“Too late for that,” Martha says. “You should have offered earlier.”

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted -”

“That was the point, buttercup,” Martha coos, and lays a hand on his face like she’s going to tense any minute and break his neck. He shakes. “Now your darling Theodosia is dead, and all you have left is Alex - a human. A human who still persistently chooses Thomas over you.”

“That’s a lie,” Burr snarls. “Alex and I may not have love, this early on, but he likes me more than he likes  _ Jefferson _ .”

Martha hums, lifting one delicate eyebrow, “Are you really that sure about that Burr?”

He swallows hard at the doubt that that inspires inside of him, but pushes through it. Alex would know better then that. Wouldn’t he? 

“Well I - I love him. And he told me that he did -” He can hear how pitiful his words are, and his voice trails off as he stares up into her condescending gaze.

He knew how much of an asshole Thomas was. Didn’t he?

Martha watches his slow realization with a childish glee, and leans back, putting her hands on her hips.

“I hope you have fun being in love with someone who won’t  _ ever  _ love you.”

He watches helplessly as she shuts the door, laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

 

Alex wanders. Through two empty cars, through one with a weird fog. 

It seems to stick to his skin, and he thinks faintly that it brings new meaning to cotton candy clouds.

It makes his head feel fuzzy, and every step he takes, it seems to push against him. Looking around dazedly, he realizes that... he can’t see the exit anymore. 

But there’s no panic in his mind at this, only a calm, quiet acceptance. 

He could say that it’s silent, but that would be a lie. There’s a strange static, a sound that sticks to the innermost workings of his brain.

It makes his thoughts sluggish, huge gaps of  _ nothing _ inside of him.

He blinks slowly, and looks around once more. His eyes narrow as he sees a figure curled up in the far distance, and he thinks faintly that this car is far longer then it should be.

Taking steps towards them, he zones out for a few seconds, expecting to be at the person in no time at all.

But as he opens his eyes again, he sees them, further then they were before. Still faint through the spiderweb thin fog, but present.

He feels his face move into a slight frown as he forces himself to move faster. But they fade further and further away, even as he then sprints towards them.

The fog seems to suck greedily at his energy until he has to stop, panting heavily. He falls back into the soft, soft ground and just lies there.

In comfort.

Was he going somewhere?

No…

_ Just close your eyes for a second _

A cold chill

_ So relaxed. _

_ So tired. _

Music echoes in his mind, remnants of a gospel song he’d heard from the church choir. And then he’s falling.

Falling into darkness and nothing.

Nothing to catch him.

Nothing to stop him from falling forever.

He grunts when he lands, cushioned in someone’s arms. He looks up to see Thomas grinning down at him, lips curled into a not-quite smile. 

“Alex - love - do -” His voice cuts out between words, as if he’s saying something through water. Alex frowns, trying to focus on whatever Thomas is saying, but only succeeds in making him more annoyed.

“Can’t! - nothing right - waste -”

He falls again as Thomas disappears, and the ache in his chest grows. It grows and grows and grows, eating up at his thoughts. 

Abandonment.

Betrayal.

Flashes of images behind his eyelids. 

A cradle.

A baby crying.

A quiet soothing voice. Singing. 

But that disappears as well. Everything disappears as he reaches out, fingertips stretching so far, as far as he can, but his mind slips through like sand between loose hands.

He sits up in the car, breathing heavily. The fog sticks to his face, his arms, clings to his tongue making it heavy and swollen in his mouth.

Ripping it away from him, he stumbles away, not knowing where he’s going, just  _ away _ .

He practically throws himself out of the train car, rubbing his skin raw to get the strange sticky material off.

The wind blowing over him is soothing, and he breathes, in and out, the chill of it flooding inside his choked lungs.

But he has to continue on eventually.

He opens the door, peeks inside when he hears noises, and widens his eyes at the large size of the car - bigger on the inside, evidently. Almost like a stadium. Bleachers descend far below what should’ve been the ground. In the far distance, lights flash and something… something is happening. 

Against his better judgement, he enters the car. 

A light flashes at him, and he blinks.  _ Registered. Spectator, _ a mechanic voice rumbles. Screens shimmer briefly towards the bottom, between the apparent stage and the bleachers. The lights and noises pause briefly as the voice echoes, and Alex flinches, but then they resume and he lets out the breath he’d taken. 

He makes his way to the front of the stadium-like structure. Gasps at the two beings dueling there. 

Feathers glinting in the light, a raspy voice, laughter. Curls pulled in a ponytail, bouncing. 

And another, voice cutting deep and smile flashing unmistakably, purple coat swishing with the movements. Halo of hair. 

Laurens. Thomas. 

But the fight seems almost… friendly? As if they’re fighting for the sake of it, testing the limits of their power.

* * *

 

John hasn’t felt like this for a long time. The rush of energy through his veins, free and untethered, pushing him, pulling him, each step reverberating off every plane he can comprehend.

His wings flutter around him, the sounds of them ringing in his ears and for a second it’s like his mind hasn’t been empty for centuries.

His blade is heavy in his hand and as a switch clicks in his mind, he sends a surge of magic down his arm, his fingers tingling as the glinting silver lights up in flames, licking at the metal with hungry tongues. The light of it shines off his eyes and he grins sharp and feral at Thomas, lifting his chin in a challenge.

He is light. He is power. He is  _ glory _ .

* * *

 

A kind of darkness envelopes his mind, and Thomas smiles at the twisted shapes and bleak colors he hadn’t welcomed in his head for  _ ages _ . The iciness creeps over, and he embraces it willingly, letting the shadows solidify into his hand, a twisted blade. A Kris, it’s called. 

He’s ready. No one in the train matches his power aside from King George, but in battle Laurens has always had an advantage - something that sets them to equals in a fight. 

They are fundamental enemies. Their hatred for each other is ineffable. The clash between species is unavoidable. It runs deep within their veins, it whispers of corruption and clarity and how both cannot survive together in one world. 

The bridge between Laurens and Thomas is frayed. Existing, but frayed. If Thomas squints, he can make out a glow connecting them. 

He acknowledges the settling of the chatter in the back of his mind with a twitch of his blade. He straightens, nods in response, and lifts the corner of his lips in a smile. Runs his tongue over his front teeth, catches Laurens’ eyes following the movement. 

He steps to the middle. “Are you ready?” He purrs, lets his gaze drift. 

Laurens follows, meeting him, chest to chest. “Born that way,” He breathes, and smirks. The blade in his hand lowers, touches the floor, grip loosens. 

Thomas chuckles, taking note of this. Leans close, whispers in his ear. “Too easy.” 

The look on Laurens’ face as he’s shoved away, Thomas snatching the blade, is almost the best thing he’s seen this month. 

* * *

 

John grits his teeth as Jefferson takes his sword, pushing him back in one fluid motion. The smug look on his face makes the anger rushing through his veins spike, and his fists clench.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” The flame from the blade still thrums through him, and he steps one, twice forward and has a second to relish Jefferson’s uncertain stumble back before his fist is connecting squarely with Jefferson’s jaw.

He relishes the sting of it on his knuckles, the impact jarring his bones. It’s worth it for the loud “Fuck!” that Jefferson shouts, glaring at John with narrowed eyes. There’s a clanging noise as he drops his knife, and it sounds like a shriek to both of them. 

He darts forward, wings coming up to shield himself as he grips the knife. The weight of it is different from his sword. It seems to leak into the magic, like oil into an ocean. 

It puts a bitter taste in his mouth, and he has to take a moment to readjust, the clarity of the world around him dulling somewhat.

Pushing against it, he hefts the knife higher, looking at it with renewed interest.

“Huh. Nice choice of weapon. It’s as short as your dick.”

* * *

 

“Of course,” Thomas says, and nearly drops the sword as the flames surge. His palm begins to heat. The blade can sense he’s not an angel. He keeps his face blank through the pain, cracks a smirk and winks. “All ten inches.”

Laurens’ cheeks flush and his breathing wavers. He glances downwards once before yanking his gaze back up. “You’re lying.”

“You’re holding it,” Thomas says, leers. “You tell me.”

Neither of them react to the soft “what the  _ fuck _ ” that comes from the stands. 

“Are we gonna fight, Laurens?” Thomas says. “Or are you gonna shove that blade  up your ass and pretend it’s me?” He tries to hide a wince of pain as steam begins to rise from where his hand connects to the handle. 

Laurens notices, and grins. “Can’t handle the holiness?” 

“Can’t handle the corruption?” Thomas shoots, back, bites back a yelp as one of the flames surges and licks up his hand. 

Laurens lunges forward, but Thomas manages to sidestep, snatch his wrist and twist it away. Laurens pulls back, and Thomas swings the sword, just barely singeing his shirt. “I think I handle it quite well,” Laurens quips. 

“Corruption suits you,” Thomas says. He smiles, twirls the sword a little in a flashy display that hurts more than it impresses. He lunges. 

* * *

 

It’s as if he clicks into default when Jefferson lunges forward, swinging the knife up to block it. The difference in weight makes him shudder off balance for a second. 

_ Corruption suits you _ . The words still ring around his head as he swipes out with the blade, feeling the hum of his own sword so close, the flames almost reaching out to him before he’s pulled back into the cold sucking need of the Kris.

It tugs at his soul, tiny rips so fine he can’t notice them until they split like threads in an old worn blanket. It’s a familiar feeling, from a time long ago. 

Memories of falling, of darkness, pain sparking out from his back, his wings his wings  _ gone- _

He chokes at the memory, falls back, wings flaring dangerously. Everything stops.

They must look ethereal, he thinks later, Jefferson’s face still lit by the flickering light of the sword, his own in the shadow of his wings. 

There’s only the sound of his quick, sucked in breathing before he straightens, rolling his shoulders back and feathers rustling back into the middle plane.

“You’ve seen them so often, and you’re still awed every time.”

* * *

 

“They deserve all the awe I could possibly give,” Thomas says. He edges forward from where he’d involuntarily backed up to. “And they never fail to take my breath away.”

Laurens smiles, but it’s distant. Cold. “They took your breath away just as well when they were silver-tipped,” He says. “You didn’t have to burn them to black.”

Thomas doesn’t respond - he doesn’t have time, as Laurens stabs forward. Thomas isn’t used to the weight of the sword, so when he tries to sidestep, the knife nicks his arm. He drops the sword in surprise, and manages to kick it out of the way before Laurens can stoop to grab it. “People are more beautiful when they’re broken,” Thomas says, and gives up on physical combat, drawing strength from reserves he hasn’t touched since his first fight against the King. “People have depth when they’re broken. People aren’t drones, when they’re broken.”

Laurens deflects the first few thin beams of magic with the dagger, but flicks up his wrist and raises a shield when he sees two thick rays headed his way. “If you believe that, why do you hide from your past? Why do you run?”

“My past is not pretty,” Thomas says. “We’re all broken. I’m broken. But not from that.”

* * *

 

John understands. He drops the subject, drops the next point he was going to make. Banishes thoughts of James Madison from his mind. “If we’re broken it won’t be hard to smash each other to pieces,” John says. He hefts the dagger, twirls his finger and brings forth a glowing string of magic. Slowly lowers it along his sleeve, trails it to the floor and keeps Jefferson’s gaze up. He doesn’t notice.

It lies inconspicuous on the floor, and he steps behind it. Jefferson is still watching him.

“You’re gonna need that sword. I make a point of giving my opponents a  _ chance _ .” He grins at the affronted look that crosses the other being’s face. He does pick up the sword though, flinches minutely at the flames that roar up once more.

Laurens swings out with the blade, and grins, when their blades meet, the ringing shriek of them making them both shudder.

He backs up carefully, urging him forward. Jefferson just about steps forward into it before stopping, eyes narrowed. There’s a frozen stillness before he laughs, stepping back.

“Oh you thought you could trick me that easil-”

John throws the knife to the side, and feels all of his repressed magic surge through him as he steps forward.

He grins as Jefferson tries to block him with the sword, and swings a hand up.

Jefferson swears and drops the sword as it burns red hot in his hand. Laurens catches it and in one smooth motion swings it up to break through the hasty shield Thomas has thrown up like it’s just glass.

Lights and sparks fly, as they both abandon restraint, resorting to pure magical means of dueling. They edge closer to each other, preferring to fight in close quarters. Waves radiate off both of them, and John notices the wards around the dueling area, separating them from any spectators, begin to wobble. He grins, and presses forward. The two of them are powerful in their own rights. Both in different areas than the other. But here… John’s tactic is strength. Jefferson usually tries for deceit and trickery, seduction. 

All three of those rely on his opponent not knowing his tricks, and John… John knows Jefferson’s tricks. Intimately. But knowledge doesn’t stop brute force. And… “Showing off for your puppy?” John whispers in Jefferson’s ear as he twists out of the way of some spell. Jefferson falters immediately, turns to glance at the bleachers, as if he’d be able to see through the tinted wards to where Alex stands. 

John takes the opening. He pounces.

They topple to the ground, John’s knee on Jefferson’s chest, sword at his throat, faces just barely inches apart.

“When this is all over.” He says, low and dangerous. “Remember that I’m the only one who never left.”

* * *

 

_ Never left. Never left.  _

Laurens’ words echo through his head. 

_ Never left _ . 

Even with what just happened, even with the sword inches from his neck and oh  _ fuck _ he’s close, just an inch further and it’d be buried in Thomas’ larynx. Laurens can kill him from here. 

Laurens could kill him.

For a second, Thomas had thought Laurens was going to.

_ Never left. _

But Lafayette - no. No. They’re gone, they’re - they’re gone. James. Gone. Who else? Is there anyone?

Laurens is a constant, Laurens has been there since the beginning. Even before he fell, he was there. Their first meeting -  _ “Hold still darlin’, I can’t dress your wound if you don’t hold still.” “I’m holding still, please stop touching me -” “I’m trying to help!” _ An injured wing. Laurens had hurt himself messing around on Earth. Thomas had been around, and… was rather naive for a demon, so instead of murdering the innocent angel fledgeling he saw, he helped him make a splint. 

_“Don’t be an idiot.” “I’m not.” “Yes you are. Don’t follow him, this so-called ‘king’ - he’s a vampire, he’s no good. Thomas -” “Stop patronizing me._ _You're just jealous that he fucks me now instead of you._ _”_ _“I’m not, I know what he’s like, Thomas_ please _listen to me -”_

“Th - Jefferson?” The knife clatters to the ground as Laurens bends, checks to make sure he’s okay.

Thomas nearly jumps. Scowls, screws his eyes shut and shoves. Wishes Laurens had called him by his name. “Get off,” He demands. 

“Sorry.” Laurens stands. Holds out a hand to him, pulls him up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do,” Laurens insists. “Come here.” He hugs him, pulls him tight and just stands. 

Thomas sighs, after a few minutes, and wraps his arms around him too. 

It’s nice.

“I love you,” Thomas blurts. John startles, pushes away involuntarily, and Thomas curses himself. “I didn’t mean -”

“I know what you mean,” John says. “Sorry. I - I love you too. Despite, you know.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Mm.” 

They stand together, for a while. 

_ Spectator. Exited. Count: 0. _

“Your puppy’s gone,” John says. 

Thomas nods. “Sorry. I - Sorry. We should - we should talk more. Later. After this is over.”

“After you kick you-know-who’s ass,” John says. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

“So long that no one besides the Pretender knows we used to be friends,” Thomas jokes. 

“If he even remembers,” John snorts. “You should go catch up to Alex.”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Spar with me more, it’s refreshing.”

“Of course.” Thomas tilts his head forward, an acknowledgement. “I’ll see you on the other side, John.”

“Raise a glass to freedom, Thomas,” John says. “Tomorrow they’ll be more of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruuuuuuuuuh we have like one chapter left ohmygooooooood
> 
> EDIT: ALSO ART [HERE](http://exadorlion.tumblr.com/post/152887339343/have-u-read-whoss-gonna-ride-the-devils-train)
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS ALWAYS WELCOME!!!!!


	12. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't trust that train, boy, you'll go insane, boy. he'll smile until he breaks your soul, another mind destroy'd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for DEATH, harassment, and explicit sexual content.
> 
> (tried to rhyme. failed. lance isnt online hahaha help.... pls dont kill me)

Alex regrets his decision to walk alone through the train as soon as he steps into the next car. Still reeling from both the fog and the duel, he feels as though almost every eye in the room turns to look at him, can feel their gazes crawling like hands all over his skin.

The duel had already shaken him, and Thomas saying I love you to someone else made a pang strike his heart. The two had been well acquainted.

Not to mention powerful.

And Laurens and Thomas were _terrifyingly_ powerful - even in opposition. Alex can only imagine how they’d work together.

He steps forward shakily, and tries in vain to cover himself by wrapping his arms around his chest, painfully aware of how his leather shorts stick to his skin, how the corset is tight around his waist.

There are quiet sneers and jeers from around him, and he shivers as he meets the vacant gazes of the humans in the car, so many of them stripped bare with bruises running up their sides, looking plaintively up into the eyes of leering creatures.

He keeps his head down as he chants inside his head, _almost there almost there almost there -_

Someone presses against his back, making him freeze at how close, how cold, how _close_.

A hand runs up the inner skin of his thigh, fingers creeping dangerously close to the bottom of the leather, and he rips himself away flushing and eyes wide searching for who did that.

But they’ve already disappeared back into the depths of the train car and he shakes, standing still in the middle of the car for a moment before taking a hesitant. He only manages to walk a short distance before hands grab at him, licking a hot wet stripe up his neck, breath hot in his ear and hands fiddling at the string holding his corset together before he pushes himself away.

He feels hot, shameful tears well in his eyes as he tugs desperately at his shorts, wishing that they were longer. He’d never been more grateful for the clothes on his back before.

A squeak escapes his lips as hips push forward against his, hands gripping his hips, as they grind slowly against him, hot, wet breathing by his ear, sharp teeth nipping at his jaw.

He tries to pull away and squeeze his eyes shut, but the creature just laughs and shoves him away, making him topple into more waiting arms. His hand is grabbed and placed on someones dick.

Hands wrap around his waist from behind and fiddle with the clasps of the corset and he struggles, openly crying as it gets peeled away from his skin, hands running down his chest, biting at his shoulder.

Then he’s getting pushed roughly onto the ground, and there’s cruel laughter ringing in his ears as his face is pressed forward, eyes flying open in shock as he tries to raise his hands to push himself away, stop the hand pressing him forward insistently.

But then someone’s gripping them tight behind his back and he sobs into the fabric covering the being’s dick - fingers and touches roaming all over him, too many to count.

“Don’t pretend you don’t fucking want it, you slut.” A whisper comes tauntingly in his ear, and he shakes with indecision, before dropping his jaw and mouthing at the material, feeling it dampen with his spit as he sucks and noses at it.

He feels hot tears slipping down his cheeks, and a tongue laps at them almost greedily, and he’s starting to doubt this will ever end when -

They’re almost ripped away from him in a gust of wind and noise, and he topples back, bare skin stinging from the sudden cold.

He looks up through still watery eyes to see Thomas standing, nonchalant as ever.

Except he’s not nonchalant at all.

There’s tension evident through his posture - the way he’s holding himself reveals more of his emotion than his expression does. His shoulders are pulled back sharply, more so than normal, and his hip is cocked, deliberately in a casual pose. Too intentional to be anything but forced.

There’s an air about him, thickening the atmosphere and making it hard to breath as it pushes down on Alex’s throat, clogging all of his senses.

“Gentlemen,” His voice is soft, and wraps around all of them, like a snake slipping cold around its helpless victims. “Having fun, are we?”

“Not really, see your pet is untrained -”

“Shut up,” One of the others - someone on the edge of the room - interrupts, hissing. “Do you _want_ to die?”

“No, no. Please continue.” Thomas says, and there’s a definite undercurrent of patient anger there now, lying in wait for the perfect moment to lash out. “Untrained you say? So you took it as your right to put him in his place.”

There’s an uncertain murmur from one end of the room, and if Alex wasn’t lying on the floor trying to get the _taste_ out of his mouth, he’d laugh.

He shifts, dragging the corset further down his chest, and Thomas’ eyes flicker down to him, dark with something that makes him freeze. He knows full well what he looks like, on the floor with mussed hair and the corset peeling off his chest.

“ _You_ never bothered, so -” The voice is cut off by someone slapping a hand over their mouth but the damage is already done.

“Well you’ve had your fun-” He grins, wide, sharp and unsettling, no humour behind it, “now it’s time for me to have _mine_.”

A blink, and he’s yards from where he just was, hand wrapped around a being’s neck. He smirks, doesn’t say a word as he snaps the bone, drops the being. Its head lolls loosely, unconnected to the spine.

Alex feels bile rise quickly into his throat as Thomas raises one foot and _steps,_ the crunch of bone and flesh under his heel bringing a vindictive grin to his face.

The other beings in the car shift and cringe, but he just steps forward and slams another creature into the wall, a hard unrelenting force behind his hand.

It’s then Alex realizes just how powerful he is. Just how easily he could _crush_ him.

And as he destroys the car around him, being by being, amazingly personal for the anger radiating off him in waves, Alex gets the rather odd feeling that he is in the eye of a hurricane.

Untouchable amidst disaster.

Waiting for the back end to blow through and ruin absolutely everything.

He looks up as Thomas walks back to him, somehow still clean after that whole ordeal. There’s an overwhelming smell of blood and Alex struggles to breathe through it, the air of the car almost suffocating him.

He yelps as a hand tugs him roughly up, but is then muffled as Thomas seals his mouth with hungry lips. A hand comes up to tug at his hair and his lips fall open with a gasp, the sting of it lessened by Thomas’ lips curling humorlessly on his and a muttered, “You’re _my_ puppy.”

Before he’s being shoved against the wall, a leg pushed between his and arms held tight above his head. Thomas deftly unties the rest of the corset, and rakes a hand down Alex chest, grinning at the short hiss of pain that Alex lets out. “Say it,” He says. “C’mon, darlin’.”

“I -” Alex swallows, shuffles his feet. “I don’t -”

“Say it,” Thomas growls, and creeps his hands to the waistband of the leather shorts, fingertips dipping below the fabric. “ _Say it._ ”

“I’m your - your puppy,” Alex chokes out, and feels his cheeks flush in shame.

“Good boy,” Thomas purrs, and backs away. “Strip.”

Alex tenses, hyper aware of the shorts and briefs being the only two barriers between Thomas - who’s still clothed - and his own body.

“ _Strip_ ,” Thomas repeats, more annoyed now. Alex tries to drop his shorts quickly, then. But Thomas’ hand is on his, halting him. “Slowly,” Thomas says.

Alex is shaking as he lowers the leather, feeling the material drag achingly slow down his legs. Keeps his eyes glued to the ground as he does the same for his briefs.

“Come here, doll,” Thomas murmurs, and reaches out to cup Alex’s chin once he’s close enough. Alex finally reaches him, stepping over bodies and slipping in blood. He keeps his eyes downcast, before he realizes how submissive it makes him look and yanks his gaze up, staring stubbornly into Thomas’ amused eyes. Thomas smirks, and snaps.

An ornate chair forms from air, red cushions with a gold frame. He falls back into it, spreads his legs and gestures for Alex to lay face-down across his lap. Alex, in an uncharacteristic moment of self-preservation, complies. The armrests make the position slightly uncomfortable, but easier to hold. His dick, unfortunately, decides to take interest in the proceedings, prompting Alex to arch his back uncomfortably so as to not alert Thomas to the new development.

Thomas, however, takes this as enthusiasm, and chuckles. “My, aren’t we lustful today,” He says, and swats Alex’s cheek lightly.

Alex makes a _noise_ , then, and pushes forward enough that Thomas can feel him practically rutting on his leg. “Ah ah,” Thomas says, catching Alex’s hip and pulling him back up. “Don’t be a naughty puppy, now. Did I say you could do that?”

“No,” Alex grits out, straining to hold the position as Thomas hits him again, harder this time. Thomas exhales gently on the red mark he’d left.

Alex gets no warning.

He yelps at the cold, slimy feeling as a finger slides into his ass. He squirms, and clenches instinctively, but Thomas’ free hand holds him in place by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” Thomas warns. Alex shudders with the effort, but manages to still himself enough that Thomas begins working his finger around, moving in circles before curling, pressing against his walls and sparking sensations of bright light, burning them into his eyes. Another finger is slides in beside the first, and though the stretch is minimal, it’s still present and there and he can feel it no matter how he moves, or doesn’t move. Then they prod against _something_ and he lets out a sharp exhale, resisting the spasm that threatens to overtake his body.

“Please,” Alex says, breathless. Something about the word doesn’t feel right… As if something’s missing.

“Please what?”

“Please give me more,” Alex says quietly, and Thomas smiles, triumphant.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“ _Please_ ,” Alex begs. “Please, sir.”

Thomas stops moving entirely. “Repeat that,” he says. When Alex slams his mouth closed and refuses to speak, he pulls his fingers out until just the tips breach him, making Alex whine at the emptiness. “ _Repeat that,_ ” He says dangerously.

“Please, sir,” Alex repeats, desperate. “ _Please_.”

“For you, sugar,” Thomas says, and pushes his fingers back in slowly, adding a third. “Can you take something more for me?”

“Yes,” Alex says. “Sir.”

Thomas reaches behind himself, and seems to do something that results in a brownish red appendage appearing from nowhere, wrapping around from behind Thomas to dangle off the edge of the armrest.

“Is that - is that a tail?” Alex asks, incredulous. He stares down as the end of it - arrow shaped - swishes back and forth like an agitated cat’s.

Thomas doesn’t answer, instead electing to lift his tail and nudge the tip at Alex’s mouth. He continues to pump his fingers in and out, feeling around for that spot.

Alex slowly extends his tongue, licking tentatively at the tail. Thomas immediately twitches, and pitches forward, hunching his back. His fingers go deeper than he’d been pushing them before. Alex cries out and pushes up into them, feeling them moving inside but still wanting _more_.

Thomas straightens, cheeks flushed. He tries to play off his reaction and pushes the tail to Alex’s lips once more, except this time when Alex opens his mouth, it slips through completely.

The first thing he registers is the bendiness of the end.

The arrow had seemed sharp when he’d seen it but with it in his mouth now, curling around and caressing his tongue, he hasn’t yet hurt himself on the ends.

The second thing is the taste - salty. Salty and sort of sweet, and a taste he hasn’t tasted before but somehow reminds him of _Thomas_.

Third. The scales. He nearly chokes when he feels one of them slice his tongue when he tries to lick it. Left alone in his mouth they don’t hurt him, but they seem like a sort of defense mechanism.

Fourth. Thomas’ straining erection tenting his pants.

Alex tries to swallow around the obstruction, feeling saliva start to drip from the corners of his mouth. Thomas’ breath immediately hitches and he closes his eyes, rests his head back against the chair with his bottom lip caught between his teeth - suddenly razor sharp triangles.

Thomas moves his hand a little faster then, pulling it out completely before sliding in slow. Repeating this as Alex makes little noises around the tail, the vibrations making Thomas nearly shudder.

“That’s enough,” Thomas finally rasps, voice wrecked. He pulls his fingers out of Alex. “Face me.”

Alex doesn’t hesitate, moving quickly to straddle him. He loops his arms around Thomas’ neck, resting his forehead on his shoulder and rutting against his hips. Thomas’ hands quickly grasp Alex and hold him down.

Thomas nuzzles Alex’s neck, sucks a hickey above the collar. Pulls his hair out of the tie, runs a hand through it and uses the ends to pull him back, forcing him to arch his back once more. Displaying the collar, proudly showcasing the word “puppy”.

“Do you think you can take it?”  Thomas whispers, and the tail brushes against Alex’s thigh.

Alex eyes it. It’s conical, flaring out towards the base to form the stereotypical triangle, when he looks from the side. It’s thick, but not too thick - not thin, though. The point, as he’d discovered before, wouldn’t quite hurt. The scales, as long as he doesn’t agitate them, won’t hurt. It’s not that long…

“Yes,” He says, and rests his knees on the chair, outside Thomas’ legs, using the leverage to lift himself. He bends forward in order to keep his balance, placing his hands on the armrests.

Thomas reaches up, cups his cheek and pulls him down into a searing kiss, other hand preoccupied with fumbling with his tail. When he pulls back, Alex is gasping for air.

“Ready?” Thomas breathes, and doesn’t wait for a response before slamming home. Alex lets out a strangled cry that turns into a moan. It was so different from the fingers that had just been pressing and prodding inside him. It makes him feel so _full_ and he gasps, eyes fluttering shut before a hand yanks on his hair, making them fly open again, wide and staring into Thomas’ blown-wide pupils. “Fuck, so beautiful. Look at me, darlin’. Come on, let me see your gorgeous eyes, fuck fuck _fuck -”_

Alex releases his death grip on the chair and leans back, stilling the tail with a hand. “Let me,” he says, and rocks up, then back. Thomas chokes.

Alex eases up a little, the very base too wide, stretching his rim a little too much. He makes a note of it, and tries not to go back that far again. Thomas probably notices, but doesn’t say a word.

His movements begin smooth and rhythmic. He bounces, rides up and down and back and forth, clenching down when he feels the tip as deep inside him as it’ll go without hurting him - the base still too wide. Thomas rubs a hand across his own crotch, neglecting Alex’s dripping dick, which spends one in two seconds almost just an inch from said hand.

“Please,” Alex says, and moans again as the tail twitches inside him. “I’m gonna come, please -”

“No you’re not,” Thomas says roughly, and grips the base of Alex’s dick, staving off the orgasm that had been building.

Alex stares, wide-eyed. “Wh - wha -?”

“Don’t come,” Thomas says. “Not until I give you permission.”

“But - but I - I've been _good-_ ”

“Puppy,” Thomas says reproachfully. He drags Alex closer to him by the collar, kisses him sweetly and surprises him by a particularly rough thrust not moments later. “Just enjoy it,” he murmurs against Alex’s lips. Alex whimpers, but continues to move on the head of Thomas’ tail. “Good boy,” Thomas croons, and lets Alex back up.

He hasn’t opened his pants yet, Alex realizes. He hasn’t even unbuttoned his shirt.

It’s a power play. Let Alex think that because he’s physically above Thomas, he’s in charge. Make him forget that he’s being put on display, essentially. Makes him forget that Thomas is fucking him dispassionately, like Alex is nothing to him. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to use his dick - no, he’s using his fucking tail. Laying back and smirking as Alex pleasures him.

“Fuck,” Alex says quietly, a combination of the realization and the tail slamming into _that spot_.

Thomas pulls out then, and Alex gasps, whines at the emptiness of his gaping hole. Thomas - finally - opens his pants, takes out his own dick and gives himself a few strokes. Alex eyes it.

“Impressed?” Thomas quips, but his breathing is shallow and his eyes are half lidded, so Alex is not the only one impressed by something.

“Are you gonna fuck me for real?” Alex says instead of answering, abandoning all shame at this point because Jesus Christ he just got impaled by a _tail_.

Thomas chuckles, and the grin on his face is almost condescending as he looks at Alex. “Prove to me you deserve it,” he says.

Alex eyes his crotch one more time before stepping back from the chair and sliding steadily to his knees. The ground is sticky and wet. The liquid clings to his knees, warm. He ignores it, tries to minimize the amount of skin that’ll touch the ground.

“What was it you said to me once?” Alex says, and gently knocks Thomas’ hand away, in order to wrap his own around Thomas’ dick. “You think you like me on my knees? That I’d -” He pumps it once, leans down to lick at the liquid shimmering on the tip. “- better get used to the feeling?” He takes down the tip, swirls his tongue and feels the weight of it, heavy in his mouth. Pushes himself down, taking as much of the length as he can before pulling back up with a gasp - trails of saliva strung between his reddening lips and Thomas’ dick. Looks up through his lashes, and whispers, “I’ve gotten used to it.”

He feels an odd sense of satisfaction bubble in his chest at the audible hitch in Thomas’ breathing, before he lowers his head again, pressing his lips to the head. Opening them slowly and letting it slip inside, resting on his tongue. He gives some experimental hard sucks to it, and his lips curl when Thomas’ hand fists in his hair.

“Your mouth,” Thomas breathes, and Alex wants to smirk at the near-praise. “Fuck, I’m. Fuck.”

“Mm,” Alex tries to agree, but Thomas lifts his hips and thrusts into Alex’s mouth, the hand at the back of his head keeping him from moving, and he suddenly gets the feeling that he’s only being used as a hole for Thomas to stick his dick in. Tears gather in the corner of his eyes - though from the force of Thomas’ movement or emotion, he can’t tell.

“Good puppy,” Thomas rasps. “Good puppy -” His hips stutter, and he lets out a throaty moan, before shuddering to a stop, dick breaching Alex’s throat. It throbs once, twice, releasing a thick salty liquid Alex almost chokes on, tears dripping down his cheeks, now. Everything around him is overwhelmingly present, the smell of Thomas, the feel of his pants under his clenched fingers, the ache of his fingers tangled deep in Alex’s hair. Thomas waits, buried there, until Alex starts to desperately try to pull back - face turning red from lack of oxygen.

Alex coughs, splutters, as Thomas tucks himself back into his pants. “Do you think you were good?” Thomas sounds amused. “Do you think you deserve to come?”

“The agreement -”

“Things change,” Thomas says, eyes glinting red in the light, reflecting the pools of blood on the ground. “Sometimes you make a bad deal.”

“Sometimes,” Alex echoes, incredulous.

“Sometimes you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Thomas says. “Sometimes you wander out to a crossroads, not expecting to meet anyone there.”

“Thomas,” Alex says, unsure. He pauses as Thomas looks up, away from him. It’s - it’s almost an apology, he realizes. As close to one as he’ll get from him, anyway.

“Come here,” Thomas says, and Alex stands, settles into Thomas’ lap again, straddling him. Thomas hooks a hand in the D-ring of the collar, pulls Alex forward into a kiss, softer this time but still passionate, still between two people who haven’t quite figured out love.

Thomas pulls back, rests his forehead on Alex’s. Ghosts his fingers across Alex’s stomach, up his dick, back to his chest and neck. Alex can feel everything. He can feel the soreness in his mouth, can taste the metallic tang of thick red blood from where he’d cut his inner cheek with a scale. Can taste salt from Thomas’ semen. He can feel the air on his ass, cooling the lube there. His muscles flutter and he clenches on nothing as Thomas grips his hips and whispers, “Come for me, darlin’.”

And with a strangled cry, Alex obeys.

* * *

There’s a second of silence in the car where Alex lies limp against Thomas’ chest, head fuzzy and breathing coming short gasps.

The hand stroking through his hair is gentle, and he leans into it, pleasure thrumming through him.

He looks up when the movement stops, and Thomas looks up into the middle distance with a furrowed brow.

He looks back down when Alex makes a questioning noise and strokes his cheek apologetically.

“I'm sorry puppy, but I have to go now.”

Alex whines as Thomas pushes him off gently to stand. He shivers at the cold breeze suddenly hits him where Thomas’ warmth had just been.

“Come here, puppy.” He says, and Alex pads over, footsteps quiet in the still air of the car.

Thomas laces up the corset carefully, and pulls the tight leather shorts up his still shaking legs. Wipes off the dried blood on Alex’s legs with a whisper and a gesture. Alex steps carefully into the heels, and smiles when Thomas runs a hand through his hair, the murmured “Good puppy” making his heart soar. The cold frost creeping over his brain seems to melt away and he stares up at Thomas with wide adoring eyes.

“Be a good boy and don’t wander too far, okay?” he says before he disappears.

Alex walks out of the car in a daze after Thomas leaves, the twinge in between his legs just a dull ache in his mind. There’s a soft cloud around him, and he feels almost like he’s floating.

He can still feel phantom hands tugging at his hair, and he reaches up to brush fingers across his still-swollen lips.

Then the door at the other end of the car is swishing open, and he looks up to see a fuzzy figure walk hurriedly towards him.

“Aaron?”

“Alex.” There’s relief and want and _love_ in his voice, and Alex steps forward, a smile on his lips as he sees a figure start to form.

It grows as he sees the almost familiar body, and he steps forward with a little more eagerness until-

It shifts, blurs suddenly, like static on a tv screen. And then Thomas is looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. Alex’s arms, which had been reaching out, falter, as he stares up into his hurt, betrayed face.

“Aaron-?”

“Of course.” His voice is quiet, but it still makes Alex flinch. “Of course you love Thomas, what, did he _fuck_ you or something?”

When Alex flinches again, eyes flying wide, Aaron lets out a bitter laugh, hurt colouring his tone.

“Oh what else would that asshole do, fuck you right after he-” He stops on a word as if he can’t force it out, and it makes Alex’s brow furrow in confusion before he _realizes_ and it makes his stomach twist in disgust.

“Aaron, I-”

“No. No you don’t get to call me that anymore.” Each word is like a deeper slice in his heart and he feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

They both turn at a quiet flutter, as Thomas appears, eyes assessing the situation immediately and surprise flashing across his face.

Burr sneers and opens his arms, “Look at that. Your precious little _puppy_ does love you. And guess what? He’s _all yours_. I won’t touch him again.”

He half stumbles out of the train car, throwing a bitter smile over his shoulder at Alex. Every step - limp evident - twists the dagger in Alex’s heart a little further.

“Enjoy your life, Alex.”

As soon as he leaves, Thomas steps forward, cupping a gentle hand around Alex’s face, brushing a thumb over his quivering lip.

“Puppy,” He croons, and there’s a smirk in his voice as he says it.

“I - I don’t know what just happened, Aar - Burr came towards me and then-” He starts to ramble, words gaining in volume and speed as his tone spirals more into nervous worry when Thomas cuts him off.

“Turned into me. I noticed.”

Alex wants to bask in the pleased, smug tone of his voice, but there’s something still inside of him screaming for him to _wake up._ “I - how did -”

“You still do love your mother,” Thomas says, and something about the way he wraps his arms around Alex seems fake, something about the way he smiles - quick and sharp like a knife - seems too dangerous. But… but the embrace is warm, safe. Makes the cold recede its fingers from his thoughts.

“But he -”

“He shifted to confuse you,” Thomas says, and Alex’s brow furrows minutely. There’s something about Thomas’ statement, the smoothness of it that makes him second guess himself.

“He can shift into whoever he wants. He told you he turn into those that people love, didn’t he?” Thomas takes the silence as confirmation and continues, “He didn’t tell the full truth. He has some semblance of control over whose form he takes - he’s forced into one form from love, but he can resist it if he really wants to.”

“But-” Alex’s train of thought is halting and stilted as he speaks, “Then, why did Burr turn into me, for you?”

Thomas’ lip curls, and Alex feels a pang of pain at the dismissiveness of his tone as he brushes off the question. “That was just him trying to get under my skin. It didn’t mean anything.”

“He didn’t turn into me for you, any earlier than that?” Alex pushes. He sees Thomas flinch, and feels a chill cloud through his thoughts. “Did he?”

“No,” Thomas says, and he thinks it's a little too rushed, a little too much defensiveness in his tone, but he sounds truthful enough.

“Okay,” Alex says. He looks down, and Thomas tuts.

“You were such a good puppy,” Thomas purrs, cupping his hand under Alex’s chin and tilting his face up, bringing him closer. “And I make a point of rewarding good behavior.”

Alex’s breath catches, and he almost pulls away a little, but Thomas doesn’t let him.

“Two things. The first - there’s someone I know, who can bring forth the souls of the deceased briefly,” Thomas says.

Alex realizes what he’s saying immediately. “My mother?” He asks, and Thomas smile, close lipped, yet somehow more genuine than before.

“Of course. We can visit him soon.”

“Thank you,” Alex says, “Thank you, thank you thank you -”

“Second,” Thomas says, and Alex stops talking. The first thing was for him. The second - well. Thomas isn’t that generous.

A package is produced. Alex eyes it carefully, but opens it at Thomas’ urging. He carefully peels off the paper, slides a nail under the tape and lifts the flap.

Inside, innocently, sits a strand of coiled leather.

For a moment Alex thinks it’s a whip and his heart skips a beat. Once he realizes what it really is he isn’t much better - the clip on the end gives it away.

It’s a leash.

Memories of Reynolds creep on him, the union jack leash. The leering, the yanking.

He drops the box.

Tears gather in his eyes as Thomas catches it, frowning slightly. Not angry, more confused. “Are you alright, puppy?” Thomas asks, brushes away a fat drop rolling slowly down Alex’s cheek. “Darlin’. Are you alright?”

Alex shakes his head slightly, slowly. Takes a shaky breath and tries to step closer to Thomas, but stumbles, catching himself only barely on Thomas’ arms. Thomas has to stoop to accommodate for the sudden weight, pulling them both back to standing. “Alex?” Thomas says, questioning, and it’s the first time - the first time in a while that Alex has heard him say his name. Alex’s lip quivers, and Thomas sighs. “Oh, _darlin’_ ,” He says, and wraps his arms around him. “I’m sorry.” It sounds one dimensional - not real - but Alex accepts it, too upset to really think it through. “It’s a promise, darlin’. A promise I’ll take care of you.” He takes Alex’s face in his hands and bumps their foreheads, smiles a little at the hope in Alex’s eyes. “I love you,” Thomas says, and lands a kiss on the tip of Alex’s nose.

Alex exhales. Pulls away.

“I won’t force you to -”

Alex reaches over, grabs the leather. Thomas watches with wide eyes as he hooks the end onto the ring of the collar. Holds the other end out to Thomas, bites his lip shyly and stares at the ground.

Thomas pushes down his arousal at the sight and gently takes the leash from Alex’s hand. “Darlin’,” He says reverently. “You’re beautiful.”

Alex basks in the glow. He doesn’t notice as they pass through one of the cars from before - with the multitudes of humans sucking other beings’ dicks. He doesn’t notice the crying and screaming. He doesn’t notice anything.

His eyes are focused on Thomas.

His mind is stuck in love.

* * *

A ghost of a whisper, a “darlin’,” and wind.

Alex wanders.

Thomas is gone, Thomas isn’t there, the cold - the cold. The cold it lingers and spreads and wriggles its fingers into the little nooks and crannies in his brain, the little crevices where his secrets are, where his silence sits. The only silence. And now - now whispers spread and thoughts warp and.

And loneliness.

Because Thomas isn’t there, his safety isn’t there. His net, his blanket. He’s liable to be attacked - collar leash corset leather and mind blank, mind so, so blank.

So he continues.

Doesn’t think, just moves, moves like the air will wash off him and take with it his sins, his ill-begotten choices and decisions and. Purify him. As if that could happen.

Memories of the tail. Memories of the thing moving inside him, of his moans and begs for more and pleads and. The dirtiness. The blood on the floor. Thomas in a throne amongst all of it, Thomas sitting amongst the carcasses and redredred lining the floor, Thomas Thomas Thomas Thomas and it all circles back to Thomas.

The King of this damned train. Despite “King” George’s claims.

Regal in a dangerous way, regal in a terrifying way. “I love you,” he had said. “I love you,” his eyes had said as he slipped the corset around Alex. “I love you,” his hands had said when they touched touched touched, “I love you,” his moans had spelled, “I want you,” his lips had mouthed.

“Puppy”. “Darlin’”.

_I own you._

Alex barely registers when he wanders into the next car, until - “Mister?” He looks down at a tug on his arm. “Are you alright?”

“I - uh, yeah,” Alex says, a little disoriented. A little girl stares up at him, curious, dressed in a fluffy purple dress. “Sorry. Who are you?”

“My name’s Patsy,” The girl says proudly. “Patsy Jefferson.”

“That’s nice,” Alex says. The name sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it. “I’m Alex.”

“That’s a pretty name!” Patsy chirps. “I like it. It can be anybody’s name, doesn’t matter what gender.”

“That’s true,” Alex says.

“Is that why you’re wearing heels, Mr. Alex? Can I call you mister?”

“Mister’s fine. And no, that’s not why I’m wearing heels, but I don’t want to talk about that, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course!” She says, and grabs his hand, pulls him over to the corner where she points towards a small bundle in - a crib? “This is my little brother. His name is Georges -” She pronounces it Jeorj, with a soft j - “- Washington de Lafayette.”

“Lafayette?” Alex repeats. That connection is easier to make. He puzzles over the thought that Lafayette has a child for a second before Patsy’s surname clicks in his mind as well. His mouth opens and closes silently, as he stares blankly at the children, but then he snaps back out of it when Patsy starts talking again.

“Yup,” Patsy says, and pokes Georges’ cheek. He shifts, opens his eyes and stares up at them. “Heya Georgie.”

“Gugh,” Georges responds, giggling as a spit bubble pops in his mouth.

Alex laughs. “He’s cute,”

Patsy nods, “Mmhm. But mommy says that he isn’t cute he’s just a ‘devil in disguise’” She makes exaggerated quotation marks with her fingers, and Alex laughs.

His next statement is careful, unsure of how she’ll react. “You’re… Thomas’ daughter right?”

She nods, and a wide grin takes over her face. “Yup! He’s the best dad _ever_. He doesn’t visit very often, but-” She takes on a gruff tone, “He loves me and I have to remember that every single day that he isn’t here.”

Alex feels a pang of shock as he laughs with her. He’d never mentioned anything about this. Anything _like_ this. If he loved her so much, why wouldn’t he tell Alex about her? And who was her mother? If she had one?

The questions racing through his brain are interrupted as the door at the other end of the train opens, and someone walks in. He only catches a glimpse of a shining hat and fluffy hair before he’s diving into a booth, making shushing motions at Patsy.

He isn’t sure why, but he feels as if being caught with Thomas’ daughter isn’t exactly the best way for him to broach all of his questions.

She nods however, and he’s honestly impressed with her acting as she runs forward. “Dad! You’re back so soon?” There’s only a hint of confusion in her joyful tone and Alex feels a blast of sympathy.

But Thomas is uncharacteristically silent, and Patsy’s footsteps falter. “Pops-?” Her voice trails off into a shriek, and Alex flinches, hand going over his mouth to hush the involuntary yelp.

“Pops, please, what are you -” she backs into Alex’s line of sight then back out, Thomas following her and caging her into the corner. Alex catches a glimpse of something flashing in Thomas’ hand as he stalks by, and almost jumps out, almost defends Patsy, but she catches his eye and shakes her head slightly in a frantic “no!” And for some idiotic reason, Alex listens.

“You aren’t Pops,” she accuses, and takes a firm stance in front of the crib. “I won’t let you hurt Georges!”

“Of course I’m your pops,” Thomas says smoothly. “Who else could I be? Come here Patsy, darling, give your old man a hug.”

“No!” She shouts, and Thomas snarls, raises the knife.

Georges starts to cry.

“It’ll be okay, little bro,” Patsy whispers, grabs his tiny hand and stares into his eyes as best she can while staying turned towards Thomas. “We’re gonna be fine. Shh. Sh. Hush little baby, don’t say a word…”

“Poppa’s gonna buy you a mocking bird,” Thomas sing-songs, then swings down the knife, and Alex closes his eyes, covers his ears at the scream and Georges’ cries get louder, raise and raise and raise and “and if that mockingbird won’t sing…” and it’s almost regretful, but. Screaming and sobs and Georges is wailing, Thomas is laughing then _thunk._

Silence.

“Poppa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…”

Alex feels tears dripping down his cheeks, shudders, listens for the melody and footsteps to recede. Doesn’t look at “Thomas”. Doesn’t see him begin to blur as he steps out of the car. Doesn’t see him lose solid form.

The door slams shut.

Alex scrambles out from his hiding place, and freezes because - blood. Blood everywhere and Patsy is lying on the floor, arm outstretched towards him, eyes open and glassy and locked on his and she’s _dead._ He checks her pulse and gets nothing, she’s dead, she’s dead, killed by her own goddamn father and Alex has never hated someone so much as he hates Thomas in this moment.

He doesn’t look in the crib. He doesn’t want to know.

He opens the opposite door. Spares one glance to Patsy once more but cringes and looks away because the way she’s sprawled it appears she’s begging for help, begging for help from the direction that Alex had been hidden.

_God._

Alex closes the door gently. No point in disturbing the dead, even if they were recently deceased.

He runs.

Runs and runs and runs and somehow miraculously reaches King George’s car, breathes the password Theo had murmured on the first day, bursts in, just in time to catch the tail end of “Burr’s gone rogue -” feels a pang of something but.

“Thomas killed his daughter and Lafayette’s son,” he says. Keels over to catch his breath.

The King stands, waves away the concerned ministers. “A shame. They were nice children. Are you ready, then? Washington has my forces locked in a standstill. Von Steuben is nowhere to be found and Lafayette is _still_ MIA.”

“I’m ready,” Alex says. Hatred pulses within him, fueling him, giving him the adrenaline he needs. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Burr is still shaking when he stumbles to a halt in an empty car. His breathing comes out in short puffs, and echoes in his ears. His vision doesn’t quite focus as he stares down at his trembling hands.

A high pitched scream still echoes through his brain, and as he feels numbness prickle at the edges of his being, it tears at his mind. His fingers feel numb as he begins to dematerialise, the very atoms of his being struggling to hold himself together. His thoughts slip through his fingers and he feels pain skitter along his skin, like hundreds of needles pricking at him relentlessly.

He thinks vaguely that he should run back to the safety of his own car, but can’t find the energy.

The knowledge of what he’s done tears into him, and he doubles over at the pain of it, dry heaving as cold fingers scrabbling at his stomach. The hatred of himself, his _stupid reckless_ decisions-

He looks up with watery eyes when a door on the opposite end of the car bangs open. Angry footsteps make their way towards him and he gasps as a hand grabs his collar dragging him up until he’s just barely on his tiptoes.

Thomas’ face is terrifyingly close to his, and there’s a wild, vicious, unhinged look in his eyes.

“Burr.”

And that one word is filled with so much anger, and hate, and _sadness_ that Aaron has to look away. He feels bile rise in his throat as he begins to shift again, the pulling stretch of his skin, the jarring movement of bone and muscle.

He stares up at Thomas with familiar, sad eyes, empty eyes, dead eyes, _James’ eyes_ -before his brow furrows at another change, quick after the first.

Alex’s familiar hands twitch with every spark of his brain and he lets out a breath. Thomas’ gaze is unreadable as he stares at Alex-Burr, but morphs into one of horror as Burr shifts again, unable to stop.

The consecutive changes make him want to fall to the carpet and rid all his insides of what they’re holding, but that isn’t anything compared to the feeling he gets when he realizes who he’s shifted into.

A pink dress floats above his knees, and Thomas makes a choked noise as he steps back swiftly, away from him. Soft hands splay out in front of him as he stares in disbelief.

“No-” It’s only a sound croaked from his throat, but it spurs Thomas into action.

“What is this, some _sick trick_ to prevent me from killing you like the _pest you are?”_ His words come bitingly fast, from a deep, hurt place inside of himself, a crack inside that would heal into an ugly scar.

“No I-” Burr would have fallen to his knees at the next shift had Thomas not grabbed his shoulders, fingers tight and making his bones scrape uncomfortably.

But then he’s back to being Alex and his breath catches when Thomas shoves a hand against his windpipe, teeth bared in an expression that could only be described as a snarl.

“So you think it’s _funny_ to take everything I love?” He pushes harder and Aaron can feel his muscles convulsing as he tries desperately to get some air, blackness creeping into his vision, sparks at the corners of his eyes-

Then the hand is gone and he’s falling forward, tears streaming down his face as he scrabbles at his neck, not altogether sure that it’s still there. Air rattles in his lungs as he takes in huge gasps of it, head spinning at the desperation in which he’s gulping it in.

“I...didn’t know… you could feel... emotion.” He doesn’t care anymore. There’s no point. If he dies, why not with a bang?

He grunts with pain as the toe of Thomas’ boot digs sharply into the space between his ribs, making him fall to the side, hair falling across his - Alex’s - face.

“You can call this _payback_.” He barely registers the sneer in the demon’s voice before Thomas is calling out once more.

“Bellamy!”

“No wait-” His eyes fly open, wide, and sudden fear pools in his gut.

“Oh no, Burr, it’s not what you think.” His tone is condescending, as if he’s talking to a child. “Bellamy isn’t being brought here for _your_ sake. Not really.”

As the ghost fades into corporeality, there’s an immediate spark of worry in his eyes at the sight of Burr crumpled on the floor.

“Aaron? What happene-”

“I didn’t bring you here to ask questions.” Thomas’ voice is sharp, cold, colder than any of them have heard from him before. But it takes on an entirely different tone when he speaks again.

“Do you see what I have here, Burr?” He holds up a delicate silver band.

Both of them inhale sharply.

“That’s-” His eyes flicker to meet Bellamy’s, and feels an aching sadness at the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes.”

And Aaron can’t take the warmth and love in his eyes, the forgiveness, and _care_.

“You see Bellamy here.” Thomas gestures with it and both of them flinch, “has bound his soul, his very _being_ to this small thing.”

There’s a silent exchange between the two of them, and Aaron’s tears burn hot marks of guilt and regret down his cheeks.

“I think you’ve outstayed your welcome.”

Aaron’s eyes widen as he pushes himself up weakly, “No -!”

Thomas just grins at him and flicks his fingers at a window. It opens with a crash, and wind whips through the train car, but flows around Thomas, not even putting a hair out of place.

His movements are almost idle and careless as he rolls the ring between his fingers -

“Bellamy, I lo -!”

\- and flicks the silver out the window.

The ghost is sucked out with it, face morphing in horror and loss as he gets pulled out of the train, one hand reaching desperately for Aaron’s -

Aaron curls his hand in slowly, arm still outstretched, everything numb.

“Now I’m not completely cruel.” Aaron flinches at how Thomas’ voice seems to ring in the utter silence of the car. “You can run along to Theodosia now.”

Aaron stills, and feels his lips twitch into a grotesque imitation of a smile. “Theodosia? You think that I can run to Theodosia?”

He lets out a hysterical laugh, and feels gleeful when Thomas is caught off guard. “After what Martha did to her there’s nothing to go back for.”

He doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs, high pitched and shrill. It bounces off the walls of the car, and he can feel his neck purpling, broken blood vessels just below his skin.

“But your puppy makes good enough company,” He says, and doesn’t know why he continues, “I bet he would be good for me like he wasn’t for you, wouldn’t shut up about how much he wants me to fuck hi -”

“SHUT UP!” Thomas roars, and raises his hand, forcing magic through the air, clenching invisible fingers around Aaron’s neck.

But that doesn’t stop him from wheezing with laughter. He forces out words in between hurried gasps of air.

“London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down-” He coughs, grins through bloody teeth, “London bridge is falling down, my fair lady….”

* * *

“Hurry!” The King yells, and Alex nearly trips over his own feet, scrambling after him. The cars they pass are full of skirmishes, beings battling other beings one on one. Little unintended armies as the train splits between Thomas and the King.

The King flings open a car door, and immediately stops. Alex crashes into him, unable to react quick enough. “Fuck,” Alex swears. “Why did you _stop_?”

“Alex?”

Thomas is standing in the middle of the car. His expression is incredulous, gaze locked on Alex.

The King just laughs, high and arrogant. Throws back his head and _laughs_.

Aaron is hovering in front of Thomas, scrabbling at an invisible noose around his neck. Dents are scattered around the walls, evidence of Thomas’ anger. Something happened. Something terrible.

“What are you _doing to him?_ ” Alex demands, stepping forward before he realizes what he’s doing. Aaron won’t meet his eyes, and Alex huffs, trying to ignore the hurt that sparks inside him.

“What are _you_ doing with _him_?” Thomas snarls.

“Did you not get the memo, _darlin’?_ ” The King mocks. “Your pet is mine, now.”

“I - I’m not -” Alex starts, and he begins to feel the slow bitterness of dismay and doubt coating his mouth. But Thomas killed - Thomas killed his own - He was off though, wasn’t himself, Thomas killed his own child -

Patsy loved him.

Oh God.

 _No_.

_Aaron won’t meet his eyes._

_Dear God._

Alex almost feels guilty for his hatred of Thomas, imagines how terrible he must feel after Patsy’s death. But he remembers what Thomas did to Aaron and steels himself.

“Shut up,” The King tells him.

“Don’t talk to him like that -” Thomas growls.

“Like _you_ didn’t,” The King says dismissively

“Please -” Alex says.

“Shut the fuck up, human, I swear to hell. I’ve wanted to shut you up since I first met you, and now you’ve lost your purpose I _have nothing to hold me back_.”

Alex watches Aaron break free of whatever is binding him, quietly edging away as Thomas gets gradually more distracted. Tries not to think of the blood splattered crib. He stops protesting the King’s treatment of himself, and instead just stands, eyes lowered, until.

“He’s still mine, _Georgie_ ,” Thomas says, grabbing Alex’s attention.

“Are you so sure?” The King says, and Alex doesn’t get a warning before he’s being yanked close to the vampire’s body, and there’s a slight pressure around his neck, intensifying, before stopping completely - and something leaves with it.

In the King’s hand dangles the collar.

“You could’ve taken it off before,” Alex says flatly, disbelievingly, and that’s all he gets out because the King lunges, and -

Humans outside the train, Alex knows, romanticize vampire bites. They call them orgasmic, they say you can barely feel the puncture. They say the bites go hand in hand with sex, with the intense high and drop of a climax.

Humans say a lot of things.

Fire, is the first thing Alex manages to think. Fire and ice, twining together, rushing through his veins, through his body in a way that makes him squirm, makes him want to pull away and push closer at the same time because it hurts, it does. It burns. It hurts so much and he wants it to stop but it feels so _good_. Branching from his neck, where the King’s lips flutter against his skin, placing open mouthed kisses and leaving hickeys. Alex is beginning to become light headed, and he half-collapses into the King’s arms.

The King chuckles into his neck and runs his hands down Alex’s sides, shaking off Alex’s half-hearted attempts to push him away. He dips his fingers just barely below Alex’s waistband, but halts there, sliding them back to rest on Alex’s ass, making Alex’s lips part in surprise before the King _squeezes,_ kneading the flesh there and winking ostentatiously to Thomas, who’s completely frozen. Something dead is in his eyes. Almost as if he’s remembering something, remembering the same hands roaming Alex’s body touching his own skin, like he’s felt the dig of the fangs in his neck, like he’s felt the drug pumping through his veins.

Like he’s been a toy for this self-proclaimed king in the past.

Alex closes his eyes. The vulnerability in Thomas’ expression is too much. He focuses instead on trying to squirm away.

Alex’s neck - it feels like… like touching the hot part of the heater in the winter, feeling the coils as freezing for the split second before it burns hot, and you snatch your hand away. But then you touch it again, because you’re too curious to stop, too human to listen to your common sense telling you to _move away_.

Alex can feel the fangs in his neck, an intrusion in his flesh reaching to his veins. Bones where there aren’t supposed to be any. He can feel them like he can feel a dick up his ass, so aware that it isn’t a part of him, that it doesn’t belong, until he isn’t aware of it at all.

And then they’re gone.

It leaves him with an empty feeling. He reaches his hand up to cup his neck where blood is now flowing freely, but it comes away sticky and red and he wipes it off on his shirt quickly.

A scream. Aaron. _Crack_. _Scream._

“Darlin’,” He hears, soft.

Thomas’ halo of hair infringes on his vision, and Alex swallows. “Thomas,” He says.

Thomas says nothing then, brushing Alex’s hair back.

“Thomas,” Alex repeats, and Thomas meets his eyes. Alex can barely see through the blurry lens of his vision, but he thinks, _I just want it to be over_. Loudly. Clearly. _I just want it to be over. Please…_

Thomas remembers James and fights the urge to embrace Alex. _It’s not him,_ he thinks. _Not him._

“Okay,” Thomas whispers.

“ _PLEASE!_ ”

Thomas startles at Aaron’s scream, while Alex continues staring blankly ahead.

The blood draining had gotten to him, and there was something Aaron had mentioned before - aphrodisiac? Sedative? - that the King is fond of releasing into victims.

The King barely has time to look surprised. Thomas flings out a hand, eyes flashing in anger. Something restrained, but barely. Something he releases into every fibre of his body, concentrating it into his hand and _pushing_.

The energy hits the King, and there’s a scream. A loud scream, an ‘earth-shattering’ scream. Something guttural that humans will only dream of and never hear, something that tears into Alex’s ear drums and stands every hair on his body on edge. Something that gives him goosebumps.

The King screams, and a reality splits in two. Columns crash, stairs slide. Plants wither and die within the span of a second, rivers dry up and seas disappear.

The King screams, and suddenly the world goes quiet.

_SPLAT._

Red is all over the room now, not just the carpet or Alex’s neck. Words echo through his mind. His mother’s voice. A song…

_Drip._

_Cause you’re on the late night train…_

Red and flesh-colored lumps covering everywhere but Alex. Aaron stares, wide-eyed, and flicks a molar off his head.

_Drip._

_The night time train…_

Chunky vampire soup. Alex giggles, and the last bit of his sanity flits away. There’s a bone by Aaron’s foot.

 _Drip_.

_And no one ever comes home…_

Half an eye on Thomas’ shoulder. He brushes it off, casually. Alex follows its descent until it smashes onto the carpet.

 _Drip_.

_From the late night train…_

“Look at me,” Thomas says. He grips Alex’s chin with his sticky-red hand, and tilts his head up. “Look at me.”

 _Drip_.

_The night time train…_

Thomas leans forward, and catches Alex’s lips on his.

 _Drip_.

_Where you can’t even see the stars…_

It’s gentle. More gentle than Thomas has ever kissed him - since that train car, when Alex first met Aaron.

 _Drip_.

_Cause when you hear that voice calling for you..._

Thomas runs his tongue along Alex’s bottom lip, asking for entrance. Alex opens his mouth, compliant. Thomas breathes in, closes his eyes. Hums.

_Drip._

_Ignore it boy it speaks not the truth..._

Alex begins to feel lighter, as if Thomas is removing his burdens, as if Thomas is taking away everything that went wrong since Alex stepped onto the train.

_Drip._

_It keeps going on going on going on…_

His eyes start to droop and his mind goes staticky - he’s almost gone, it’s almost over, there’s nothing to think about anymore, nothing to say, nothing to do, no reason to stay -

_Drip._

_It never ends…_

“WAIT!”

_It never ends…_

Aaron.

Alex jerks back.

Stares into Thomas’ shocked expression.

_It never ends…_

Falls.

Aaron catches him.

He’s sobbing.

Wailing.

_It never ends…_

_No_.

Alex swallows.

 _You’re you_ , he says.

_It never ends…_

Aaron stutters.

A hand cradles Alex’s face.

_It never ends…_

_Don’t leave me!_

He’s fuzzy.

_It never ends…_

_DON’T LEAVE ME!_

_It never…_

* * *

 

_Cause when you hear that voice calling for you_

_Ignore it boy it speaks not the truth_

_No matter how hard, how far you fell_

_Don’t trust that train_

_It won’t treat you well..._

  
_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE SORRY 
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> (...not rly)

**Author's Note:**

> p l e a s e let us know if you liked it  
> comment and leave kudos! thank u for reading  
> my (thegirlnightwing) tumblr is [the-girlnightwing](http://the-girlnightwing.tumblr.com), draconequus's tumblr is [fighting-frenchbread](http://fighting-frenchbread.tumblr.com)  
> follow us and ask us questions abt this au pl s ;;;; ))))))  
>   
>  **PREQUEL COMING SOON!!!**  
> 


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